Momentus
by QueenLydia
Summary: Snapshots in the lives of the Brotherhood- past, present, and future.
1. Jerk

Pietro stood in the doorway to Lance's room, blinking dumbly at the sight before him. "Do I even want to know?"

Lance looked up from his awkward position on the floor, where one of his legs was folded behind his back and another one curling around his side, trying and failing to meet his outstretched arm. On someone else, Pietro supposed, the pose might have looked graceful; on Lance it just looked like a very sad attempt at a human pretzel.

"Kitty's having me do it," he offered as an explanation, wincing as he shifted position slightly and his strained muscles very clearly protested. "She said it's good for your muscles... I'm not sure I really see how."

Pietro pressed a hand to his face. "You are such an idiot."

"Thanks."

"No, seriously. I don't even know how I can stand being around you."

"You know," Lance commented dryly, "as your friend I'm allowed to tell you when you're being a jerk, and you're being an jerk."

Pietro rolled his eyes. "You aren't even doing it right. Here." He got down on the floor next to Lance and gestured for him to come out of his pose. "Start over."

"_Ohmygaddddd_," Lance groaned and he delicately unfolded his limbs, wincing in pain at the stiffness of his muscles. "Why. Why, why, why, why, why."

"This is why I never want a girlfriend," Pietro sighed. "Now, do it like this-" Pietro demonstrated the position to Lance easily and skillfully, twisting his limbs in ways that Lance knew came nowhere close to his own previous state. He only raised his eyebrows when Pietro turned to him and said, "Now you."

"I- there's no way I can-"

"Quit being such a wuss, Alvers, and get in the pose so that you can impress your precious girlfriend!" Pietro rolled his eyes as he watched the brunet flail desperately as he tried to twist his body to mirror Pietro's own. Lance let out a high pitched squeal when his foot bent back the wrong way, and as Pietro watched he tipped over sideways and landed on his side where he lay unmoving, evidentially having exhausted himself.

Pietro pressed a hand to his face. "This is going to be a long process."

**AN: **_**Momentus **_**means in Lithuanian, literally, moments. And that is essentially what these stories are going to be; a series of moments in the lives of the Brotherhood. Some will be long, some will be short, some will focus on one character while others will focus on another (though I'm sort of a Pietro fangirl, so expect a lot of him in these), but they will all be about the Brotherhood; who they are, why they've come to be this way, and what becomes of them after the series ends. There will probably be a few AUs in here too, but I'll tell you when these occur. Yes, Lancitty will be a prominent pairing. If you don't like it, there are plenty of Moments without it, and I'm sure you can easily find some Lietro or Landa or whatever shoots your arrows if you read in between the lines.**

**I hope you guys like these, and please tell me what you think because I'm always interested in hearing how I can get better.**


	2. Meeting

That Friday morning, Lance surprised everyone- most of all himself- by rising even before Mystique's alarm had woken her up. His eyes opened just as the first rays of sun were beginning to break through the heavy darkness of night, and try as he might he was unable to force himself back into sleep.

Eventually giving up, Lance dragged himself out of bed, still in his pajamas, and descended the stairs to the kitchen. In his half-asleep mind, it didn't even occur to him that he should maybe be alarmed by the thin, white-haired boy who was standing in front of the kitchen window when he got there, completely shirtless. Instead, Lance simply turned on the coffeemaker and in a zombielike haze poured himself a bowl of cereal and placed it down at the kitchen table before almost falling over.

Looking up at the boy, who was silently observing his actions with sharp icy blue eyes, Lance inquired, "Milk?"

"Got it," the boy replied casually, opening the fridge and withdrawing the carton of milk before handing it to Lance.

"Thanks," Lance sighed, sitting down at the table and pouring a healthy dose of milk into his cereal. It was only after he'd taken his first bite and his mind was somewhat more awake that he fully realized the fact that there was a _random shirtless boy with white hair standing in the kitchen_. "Uhh..."

"Nice bedhead," commented the boy with a wry smirk. "Did you stick your head in a blender?"

"It just comes like this," Lance replied automatically, frowning confusedly at the stranger. "Who _are _you?"

"The name's Pietro Maximoff," replied the boy, not bothering to stick his hand out to shake. "I just got here last night, and the reason I'm presently shirtless is because none of my stuff's arrived yet and I didn't exactly treasure the idea of going the whole day in the shirt I wore breaking out of prison."

"Prison? Huh," Lance blinked, not ashamed to admit that he was minorly impressed. "What'd you do to get there?"

"Property damage," proclaimed Pietro proudly. "About _thirty thousand dollars _of property damage."

"You think that's impressive? I destroyed my entire school once." The boy gave Lance another small, thin smirk, and Lance couldn't help the slight rush of pride that he felt. Even though he knew that tearing down his old school- and nearly killing that stupid X-girl in the process- wasn't quite something to be proud of, it felt nice to have someone else look at him like he wasn't some sort of maniac when they heard about it. "What sort of mutation do you have?"

"Oh, I don't know-" replied Pietro, shrugging casually. Suddenly, with a rush of air, Lance realized that he was now standing on the other side of the room. "I'm just sort of the-" Another zoom, and Pietro's voice was now coming from the front hallway. "fastest person alive. It's pretty-" His voice cut off abruptly, and Lance was bewildered for half a second before he heard a tapping on the kitchen window and looked up to see Pietro standing there with his arms crossed and that same cool smirk on his face. "Cool, I guess." He took off again, and the next thing Lance knew Pietro was once again standing in the kitchen. "Like it?" Lance nodded- he had to admit that the other boy's power was pretty impressive. Pietro leaned against the wall casually, and raised his eyebrows. "What can _you _do?"

Lance shrugged. "I'd show you, but Mystique said that if I tear down this house she'll have my head on a pike. I can control seismic shifts in the earth." He wished that he could show off his powers to Pietro as the other boy had been doing, but he didn't doubt that Mystique would literally kill him if he ended up wrecking this house. It was the only house she had been able to find, and he knew that he would be kicked out _at least_- not that he really cared, but there was no way he was going back to his old foster home and while he could probably manage on his own, he didn't exactly relish the thought of being left with no shelter, no food, no money, and not even a car to drive- so he figured it was best for him to stick with the Brotherhood for now.

"Not bad. Not as good as mine, though." This time, Pietro did extend his hand. "Quicksilver."

"Avalance- but you can call me Lance." After shaking hands, Lance gestured to the still brewing pot of caffeine on the counter. "Coffee?" he offered, but Pietro shook his head.

"I'm not allowed to have caffeine. Something about 'bouncing off walls' and 'minor symptoms of demonic possession'. Tea's more my style anyway."

"Whatever," Lance shrugged, and ate another spoonful of cereal. Looking up again, he was suddenly very aware of he fact that Pietro was entirely shirtless- and didn't seem at all shy about it. "Uhh," he murmured, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck, "so... when are your clothes gonna get here?"

"Whenever Magneto brings them." Pietro smirked again, and straightened his shoulders a bit. "Why? Am I making you _uncomfortable_?"

Lance rolled his eyes at the other boy. "Shut up."


	3. Friends

**AN: This chapter features Lancitty, as well as a devious Pietro. Read at your own risk.**

The ring of the Brotherhood house's decrepit old doorbell sounded throughout the house, drawing the teenage mutants out like curious insects eager to investigate a fallen crumb. The only one who didn't emerge from his room was Lance- he was too busy frantically racing around his room, tearing through his drawers in an attempt to find a suitable outfit for his date tonight.

"That's Kitty!" he exclaimed, stumbling out to the top of the stairs where he could see Toad seconds away from answering the door. "Do not get that!" he exclaimed, and the younger boy immediately took a step back. "Just- tell her I'll be down in a minute. I'm getting her a present! Yeah, tell her that! Just tell her- tell her I'll be right down."

Toad frowned at Lance's retreating back as he made a hasty retreat back into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. From the doorway of the kitchen, Todd heard a devious chuckle.

"Idiot," Pietro muttered, shaking his head. His arms crossed as he leaned against the doorframe, he glanced at the younger mutant and nodded to the door. "Well? You heard the man. Aren't you going to answer?"

Toad wasn't sure what exactly to do; however, he seemed to be taking too long for Pietro, because within the time it took him to turn around Pietro had already run up behind him and opened the door himself to reveal a slightly anxious looking Kitty standing there in a light blue dress, with her hair twisted up in a neat knot on top of her head.

"Pietro..." She greeted slowly, forcing a face smile at the sight of the speedster standing in the doorway. "Hi. Is Lance ready?"

"No," Pietro replied, smoothly ushering Kitty inside before she even realized what he was doing and shutting the door behind her. "He'll just be a minute, though. Come on in!"

"I, um, really don't need to-"

"No, it's fine! Just come right into the kitchen." Pietro lead an unprotesting but clearly bewildered Kitty into the kitchen as Toad followed behind, observing the scene in confusion. Pietro continued on, clearly not caring that he seemed to be the only one who knew what he was doing- and probably liking it that way. "Just sit down, and I'll go get something to drink. Toad, keep the lady entertained, will you?"

"Speedy," Todd hissed, catching the older boy by the arm. "What are you _doing_, yo?"

"Just keep her here," Pietro grumbled quietly, narrowing his eyes in irritation. Todd clearly interpreted the warning, and took a step back to allow Pietro to zip out of the room, leaving Todd and Kitty in the room alone together. Todd wasn't used to this- being alone with a girl. He didn't know how to react. What should he do? What should he say? What was Pietro even planning? He shifted uncomfortably under Kitty's gaze, and the girl's eyes shifted to frown down at the table.

"Uhh... hi," Toad attempted.

"Hi."

"Lance'll be down in a minute... he ain't dressed yet."

"Maybe I should just wait outside..." Kitty started to rise, but was nearly knocked down again when a powerful gust of wind swept into the room, revealing none other than Quicksilver standing in the middle of the kitchen, holding a water bottle and smirking like it was his birthday (was Pietro even the type of person who smiled on birthdays? Todd didn't know.)

"Going somewhere?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Sit, sit." Kitty wasn't left any choice; she sank back down into her chair, and took the bottle when Pietro offered it to her. "I got that from a taco truck," he explained, sounding a big proud. "In Mexico."

"Did you, umm... pay for it?" Well, that was a stupid question, Todd thought. Everyone knew that Pietro didn't pay for anything when he could help it. It wasn't like they had the money anyway. Pietro simply snorted in reply and shook his head.

"So, Kitty..." Pietro leaned forward on his elbows, smirking at the clearly nervous girl sitting across from him. "Tell me- did you know that Lance still sleeps with a baby blanket?"

Kitty blinked. "He- really?"

"Yup. Loves it like a child. Also, he washes his hair more often than I do, yet somehow manages to retain no fashion sense. Have you noticed that?"

"I have actually." Kitty frowned. "His hair does smell a little bit like strawberries..."

"It's his favorite shampoo. He refuses to part from it. He won't let anyone else use it." Pietro snickered. "I mean, I can see with Toad here, who probably doesn't know what shampoo is-" this comment triggering a sharp "Ay!" from the mutant in question- "but me? Not that I'd want to use his shampoo anyway," he hastily amended. "But really."

Kitty giggled. "And have you seen him in sad movies? He cries like a baby!"

"I don't even want to bring up the incident when we were watching Titanic-"

"Tell me!" Kitty urged eagerly, leaning forward and taking a sip from her water bottle. Pietro grinned.

"He was curled up on the couch for two hours."

"Yeah, and he couldn't even get up for school the next day," added Toad, jumping up and down in his eagerness to get in on the "embarrass-Lance" game. "He just kept rockin' back and forth and saying "never let go, never let go," over and over and over-"

"It was truly pathetic," Pietro sighed mournfully. "No offense Kitty, and I'm allowed to say this because he and I are friends, you could do so much bett-"

It was Todd who spotted him first. "Oh, hiya Lance!" the younger mutant exclaimed, suddenly jumping a few feet away from the table. Pietro and Kitty both froze, and slowly the heads swiveled towards the door to see Lance standing there, looking for all the world like he had just walked in on his girlfriend and best friend making out instead of sharing embarrassing secrets about him; shocked, angry, and a little bit humiliated.

Pietro was the first to regain his cool. "Lance," he greeted, rising to his feet. "Kitty and I were just chatting a bit while we were waiting-"

"Yeah," Lance interrupted, his eye twitching slightly. "I heard. When did 'tell her I'll just be a minute' turn into 'let's all humiliate Lance into not going on a date for a year'?" Toad was surprised to see that Lance was directing his glare at him.

"Nuh-uh, yo, I didn't have anything to do with this!" he exclaimed, holding up his hands. "This is all on Speedy over here."

"Yeah," Lance replied, shifting his hard gaze to Pietro as Kitty quickly joined him in the doorway. "I'll bet." He seemed awfully eager to usher Kitty out of the house after that, barely giving her a chance to wave to Todd and Pietro over her shoulder and call, "Bye, guys!" before they were gone.

On their way out the doorway, Toad could very clearly hear Kitty inquire, "Lance, is it true that you sleep with a baby blanket?"


	4. Waiting

Mama never knew that just by hiding outside the door, Todd was able to hear everything that went on in her room. But he could.

Normally he didn't listen, because he was a good little boy and Mama told him that good little boys don't snoop. But sometimes, when he hear the yelling- like tonight- he did snoop. He told himself that is was only to make sure that Mama was okay, because Todd had seen firsthand how Gary could get mad sometimes, and he wasn't ever going to let anything bad happen to his mama.

They argued about lots of stuff; money, bills, work. But the worst times were when they argued about him- like tonight. The argued about him a lot.

"What do you want me to do, Gary?" his mama shouted, and Todd shrank even further back into the shadows, keeping his ear pressed to the drywall in order to listen better. This was one of the few times Todd was grateful that he was half the size of all the other kids his age- he couldn't be spotted easily. "he's my son!"

"He's a little freak!" retorted Gary venomously, and Todd could see the man's large shadow reflected in the thin bit of light shining out into the hallway. "You've seen him and you know it!"

"I ain't giving up my son just because he's different!"

"Different?" Gary's voice was incredulous, furious, and Todd could feel anger bubbling up inside his chest, thick and bitter and wrong. At times like these, he never hated Gary more. "He's disgusting!"

"There's something wrong with him, that's all, he's just not like-"

"There's something wrong, alright!" Gary cut in, and Todd clenched his fists. No one interrupted his mama. "And here's the deal- either he goes or I do!"

As opposed to Gary's shouting, when Todd's mother spoke again her voice was quiet and strong. "You think you can do that?"

"It's your choice, Gina- and you'd better make it fast!"

"Don't you dare threaten me!" His mother's voice rose into a wail of the same rage that Todd was feeling at that very moment, and then he heard something shatter inside the room. He knew that was his cue to leave. When things started shattering, Mama always came to check that he was still "sleeping" in his room.

Hastily he darted back into his bedroom and closed the door behind him, leaving only a tiny gap just so he could hear when the argument finally ended. He leapt over the bedsheets discarded on the ground- Julys in New York were too hot, especially in apartment buildings- and curled up in his bed, wrapping his arms around his pillow. He was just in time, too; seconds later, the door creaked open and Todd's mother stepped into the room. Eyes frozen shut, Todd remained completely still and she approached the bed. Gently, her hand came to rest on his shoulder.

"I know you're awake, boy," she muttered, her voice thick. To Todd, it sounded like she had been crying. "Your shoulders are too stiff."

Todd rolled over on his side, and blinked up at her with wide brown eyes which were gradually beginning to shift to an amber color. "You okay, Ma?"

"I'm fine," she replied, lifting him from the bed and gathering him in her arms. "I'll never understand. Seven years old and I can still hold you like you were three."

"Nah. I'm growin', ain't I?"

"Not fast," she murmured, squeezing him to her chest. Her familiar scent- cigarettes and coffee and cheap perfume- flooded Todd's nostrils, and as always it made him feel safe. "Not fast enough."

He pushed himself away enough to really look at her. Clear tear tracks ran mascara lines down her light brown cheeks, and even now her dark eyes shone. "Mama," he frowned, "if he hurt you again..." The red mark on her cheek was all too evident to him, and it made his insides twist.

"Shh..." she shook her head, silencing him instantly. "No. Don't do that. It ain't your place to worry about."

"But I love you, Ma," he said quietly, close to tears himself. His mother squeezed him tighter against her, as if she never wanted to let him go.

"It's alright, baby," she muttered, and gently she laid him on the bed again. "Everything's gonna be alright." And she stayed there with him, gently stroking his hair, until he fell asleep.

The next morning, his mother told Todd that they were going for ice cream- him, her, and Gary. As a family.

They didn't go for ice cream. Instead, Gary drove them to Todd's uncle's house- the uncle they didn't go near too often because Mama said he "wasn't right up _there_". Todd got out of the car. Mama and Gary didn't.

He waited- he kept waiting and waiting, certain that if he just waited long enough, she would come back to him. Days turned into months, and then he wasn't at Uncle Joey's anymore. Months turned into years, and he never stayed in one home for more than six months. And eventually Toad realized that there just wasn't any point in waiting anymore; she wasn't going to come back.


	5. Smoking

**AN: Lancitty-centric.**

When Kitty let out a heavy sigh, Lance looked over at her.

"What?"

"Why do you have to do that?" she murmured softly, resting her head on her arm. Confused, lance's brow furrowed, and his girlfriend rolled her eyes as she reached over and plucked the lit cigarette from between his fingers. "This," she muttered, as if it ought to be obvious to him. "Why do you have to do this?"

He could only give her a shrug. "I dunno. I've just always smoked." He'd been smoking almost for as long as he could remember- at the age of twelve it had been easy for him to nick cigarettes off of his neglectful foster parents, and the habit had really only grown from there. "Is it really such a big deal?"

"Yeah, Lance," Kitty replied, rolling her eyes. "It's, like, _gross_- and don't you know that secondhand smoke kills?"

Lance snorted. "That's all just stuff they say to keep you from smoking. None of it's true."

Kitty pouted at him, still looking uncomfortable with the cigarette in her hand. Lance felt a pang of guilt hit him at her wide-eyed expression, staring down at the cigarette in dismay. "You're hurting yourself and everybody around you."

He drew away from her, frowning deeply, and sat up on the bed with his arms crossed. He didn't understand where all this was suddenly coming from- or why Kitty was acting like he was the only one. Sure, Pietro didn't smoke too often- something stupid about "lungs" and "running" and "dropping like Fred on a hot day". But it wasn't unusual for Todd and even sometimes Wanda to ask to borrow a smoke or two off of him. Why was Kitty _looking _at him like that- not even angry, but as if she were _pitying _him?

"I'm only saying this because I care about you," Kitty murmured, frowning, and Lance scowled.

"I don't need to be babysat," he shot back. "You don't need to worry about me."

"But I do, Lance," she returned, laying a warm hand on the bare skin of his arm. As always, her touch sent electrifying shockwaves through his skin. "How can you expect me not to?"

"People don't worry about me. That's just how it works." That's the way it had worked, from the time he was a little boy right up to now- that was the way Lance was certain it was always going to work. People didn't care about delinquents like him- especially not people like her.

She shook her head slowly, giving him that same sad frown. Wordlessly, she reached over and put out the cigarette in a small ashtray sitting on the table next to Lance's bed. "It doesn't have to be like that anymore," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his torso and laying her head against his strong chest. "You aren't alone anymore. I care about you. And I want to make sure you care about yourself."

For a long moment, Lance sat still and stared down at her, his dark eyes searching her own blue ones for any sign of falseness he was almost certain had to be there somewhere. But he could find nothing besides honest, genuine concern and care, in the same warm eyes that had always taken his breath away. Finally, sighing, he gave in and placed a kiss on the top of her head.

"Promise me you won't smoke anymore?" she asked, her voice coming out no louder than a whisper, and he closed his eyes.

"I promise."

**AN: Smoking in the Brotherhood house was actually a thing- in some background shots you can see ashtrays. I just always pegged Lance as the main smoker, and of course Kitty must have hated that.**


	6. Ring

When Pietro walked into the kitchen for a mid-afternoon recharge, he was greeted with possibly one of the strangest sights that you can be greeted with on a Sunday- his best friend prying at his finger with the handle of a metal spoon, totally unaware of the world around him.

Blinking in bewilderment, Pietro raised an eyebrow. "Uhh... Lance? Is this a bad time?"

Avalanche seemed surprised to see that he wasn't alone, and he looked up rather guiltily as slowly Pietro's gaze wandered between his friend to the spoon digging into his finger. "I mean, I'm not saying that cannibalism isn't the way to go, but I just figure it might be best to start with someone _besides _yourself..."

"I'm not doing that, you idiot," Lance grunted before giving the spoon another jolt, accomplishing nothing other than confusing Pietro even more.

"Then mind telling me what you _are _doing?"

"I'm-" Lance stopped, grunting again before abruptly tossing the spoon across the room with an exasperated groan. "It's this," he explained at last, holding up the offending finger to Pietro. His problem was immediately clear- a silver band was wedged about halfway down his finger. Tightly wedged, in fact- so tightly that the skin around the ring was red and swollen, and it was obvious that Lance could not get it off.

"Kitty gave it to me," Lance continued, staring at his finger in a way that suggested that he regretted everything he had ever done in his entire life. "She had another one for herself and gave this one to me- only it's way too small. I didn't want to say anything, and now... I can't get it off."

Pietro raised a tentative eyebrow. "Did you try _vaseline_?"

"Yes," retorted Lance flatly. "And soap. And oil. Pietro, I tried freaking _peanut butter_. Nothing has worked."

"Oh Lance," sighed Pietro, fighting to keep himself from bursting out laughing as he sped around his friend to lean casually against the counter, "I know there logically must have been a time when you were fully capable of surviving without me, but there are times when I really start to wonder..."

"Shut up," shot back the other boy, still holding up his hand like it was something radioactive. "Are you gonna help me or not?"

Pietro smirked. "Are you actually asking for my help?"

"I'm standing here, aren't I? Haven't you ever heard of doing a good deed?"

"No. But," Pietro sighed, uncrossing his arms and pushing himself away from the counter, "luckily I'm feeling generous today. Come on, you probably just didn't put the vaseline on right."

However, fifteen minutes later, after a troubling amount of poking, pulling, and clawing, it quickly became clear to both of them that vaseline was not the problem here. "Lance, you idiot!" Pietro exclaimed, putting almost all of his strength into physically yanking the ring off of Lance's finger. "You didn't put the ring on right!"

"It's not my fault the stupid thing doesn't fit!" Lance shot back, his face twisted in pain.

"No, you just have- fat- _fingers_!" Anything else Pietro was about to say was immediately cut off when not the ring but his own strength gave out on him, causing him to fall to the ground in an ungraceful heap that made Lance, despite his predicament, snicker a bit.

"Shut up, Alvers."

xXxXxXx

"Okay, since vaseline obviously isn't working, we're going to need to get a bit more creative."

Lance's finger was now beginning to throb, and he could only figure that that wasn't a good thing. Cradling it gingerly to his chest, he frowned at the other boy. "This... only sounds like a bad thing."

"Not at all, Avalanche," Pietro retorted, but the large pot of water which he held up at the exact same time did little to quell Lance's nerves. "Now, just hold still," He said, reaching for Lance's hand, but the other boy hastily drew back.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, what are you gonna do with that?"

"It's ice water," retorted Pietro, rolling his eyes. "It'll help get the ring off, trust me."

In the split second that it took Lance to debate between asking precisely why Pietro knew so much about ring removal and exactly _how cold _the water was, Pietro had already grabbed Lance's hand and thrust it into the bowl. Wholly unprepared for the sudden shock, Lance gasped.

"Cold!" he hissed, immediately yanking his hand back- and accidentally spilling the entire pot of water on Pietro at the same time. The speedster immediately let out a shout and started jumping around, snarling indecipherable words as he worked to shake off the icy water that now covered him. Lance watched in a sort of detached bemusement for a few minutes, still half focused on the pulsing pain in his finger, until Pietro had finally settled down, still shivering.

"You know," he remarked flatly, "the ring still isn't coming off."

Pietro crossed his arms, glaring petulantly at the floor. "Do a good deed, they said..."

xXxXxXx

"I don't see how holding my hand over my head-"

"Alvers, do you want the stupid ring off or not?" Pietro snapped, taking even Lance aback by the harshness to his voice. "Because we could always just cut off the finger, you know."

"Fine, fine," he replied, holding up the one hand that wasn't already being suspended- and mutilated by the ring- up in a gesture of submission. "Geez, someone's having a bad day."

"I _was _having a good one." Pietro leaned against the kitchen counter, scowling. "You just had to put the ring on, didn't you? You just had to get stuck?"

"_You _just had to help."

"I don't know why I did help! Not like I'm exactly known for my generosity or anything!"

Lance made the wisest decision he had made all day, and elected to ignore Pietro's rantings entirely. "You know," he mused, frowning, "I wonder how I'm going to tell Kitty that the ring doesn't fit right. I bet she'll be disappointed..."

"Oh, for chrissakes," Pietro muttered, sounding close to tears. "How do I live with you? How do I live here at all? How do I even exist when the general population of humanity are all along the same lines of idiocy as _you_?"

"You're getting more creative with your insults now. Nice," remarked Lance, who at this point was honestly just tired. All he wanted to do was get the freaking ring off of his finger and then retreat to his room- to stay there for the rest of the night. Honestly, as if the ring wasn't bad enough, dealing with Pietro- especially in one of his moods- could be exhausting. Even his arm was getting heavy from holding it up for so long...

Lance decided that there would be no harm in resting his arm against the top of the refrigerator. After all, if this trick did what it was supposed to and got his hand free, this would all be worth it- and Lance could get back to peace and quiet.

Speaking of which, Pietro was still rambling. "I was having a nice day, too. I was having a _really _freaking nice day. I got dates today, two of them, with these two absolutely gorgeous girls. And then I trashed Kelly's car again, which is always fun, and I dumped a garbage can on Duncan's head without him seeing me, so today was really, really nice. But then I come home- and I find _this_. You, trying to saw your finger off with a spoon. _Why_? _Why _do these types of things have to happen to me? When I'm to _only one _around to deal with them? Does that sound fair to you, in any sense of the word? Why can't the world just see that I'm _far too_- urk."

Whatever Pietro was about to say was quite abruptly cut off when Lance, who had actually begun to get a little engrossed in Pietro's tirade, made somewhat of a blunder; on top of the refrigerator there was a vase, placed there by Mystique some indefinite period of time ago and which nobody had bothered to remove. Lance hadn't seen this vase when he put his hand there, and he had been so focused on Pietro that he hadn't noticed that his hand was gradually sliding further and further along the top of the fridge- until two full pounds of china suddenly fell right on top of Pietro's head.

The speedster dropped like a stone.

"Huh," Lance murmured, staring down at Pietro's twitching body with a vague sort of interest as he halfheartedly made another attempt at removing the ring. To his surprise, it ended up twisting straight off. "Hey," he remarked to Pietro, nearly feeling cheerful. "The ring actually came off!"

"Goody for you," Pietro murmured from the ground, his only movement a slight twitch of his wrist. Lance considered momentarily checking to see whether or not he was okay.

Then again, he knew how hard of a head Pietro had. He would be fine, he decided, and without further deliberation he merrily made his way up the stairs to call Kitty and regale her with all the details of their little ring mishap.

Still unmoving on the floor, Pietro groaned.

**AN: Sometimes I feel like I just **_**really**_** enjoy torturing Pietro. Also, I love cartoon humor. It's the best.**


	7. Unicorn

His hands locked on the steering wheel, Lance glared out at the dark road ahead.

In the passengers seat, Pietro giggled.

"I hate you," Lance murmured, clearly not seeing any of the situation's supposed "humor" whatsoever. "You know that."

"_Yeah_," replied the teenage speedster, leaning his head against the window. With his forehead pressed to the cool glass, the lights outside of the car- or however many lights were still on at two in the morning- zipped by in a hypnotizing blur that his alcohol-dulled mind couldn't make sense of. He let out another giggle before adding, "A lot of people do."

"Yeah, well, I seriously, seriously hate you."

"Aw, come on Lancey," Pietro drawled, and then hiccupped. "Don't be like that."

"When I got there you were on top of a McDonalds sign. How did you even get up there?"

"_Magic_," replied Pietro, and then he snickered at his own drunken sarcasm. "Laaance," he purred, leaning over to rest his head on his friend's shoulder. Lance rolled his eyes, his shoulder instantly tensing up under the other boy's touch.

"What?"

Pietro leaned up, and his warm breath tickled Lance's ear as he whispered in as seductive a voice as he could manage in his present state: "_I'm a unicorn!_" And then he dissolved into another fit of giggles, leaving Lance seriously considering the repercussions of purposely crashing the car.

At this point, Lance mused, it might even be worth the damage to his precious baby.

**AN: This was the chapter that was originally supposed to be posted today, before I came up with the ring one and two in the morning last night. This one's short, and, once again, it's about- surprise surprise- Pietro and Lance. Sorry for the overload of these two, but don't worry- the next one's going to be about Wanda.**

**Do any of you guys have some ideas? Thoughts? Constructive critiscism? I'd love to hear them. Who/what do you want to see more of?**


	8. Goldfish

Wanda Maximoff was already having a hard enough day.

First she had run out of conditioner while she was washing her hair. That had sucked on it's own; everything that followed just progressively continued to grow _worse_.

She tripped coming down the stairs, she burnt her toast, she spilled her juice, she accidentally set the kitchen table on fire again, she tripped coming up the stairs, and then she was hit on by Toad... _again_. All in all, Wanda's day wasn't exactly going so well.

She had been hiding out in her room for most of the day, her books and CD player serving their usual purpose of keeping her from feeling too alone. She only forced herself out at around six that night, when she realized that she hadn't had dinner and was actually pretty hungry.

What she found when she walked into the living room was nothing remotely close to what she had been prepared for. And Wanda lived in the Brotherhood house- so that was saying something. She had _thought _that nothing would surprise her anymore living with such maniacs; as usual, she managed to prove herself wrong.

Wanda Maximoff was hit in the head with a goldfish cracker.

She had walked into Goldfish War III. All around the room, hundreds of the little snacks were scattered everywhere. In the middle of the mess stood the very guilty looking quartet of Lance, Todd, Fred, and Pietro- each with their hands loaded with dozens more goldfish, having been fully prepared to fling them at each other before she had walked in and frozen the battle in its tracks.

After a moment of awkward and rather tense silence, Todd was the first one to speak. "Uhh, _heeeey _sweetums," he greeted, smiling nervously as he held out his hand. "Goldfish?"

Five seconds later, Toad- along with the rest of the goldfish- were sent sailing out the window, with nothing but a fine dusting of cheese powder and a loud wail that faded as it's source was carried farther and farther away left to indicate that anything had ever happened in the first place.

"So," Wanda enquired, sounding as close to cheerful as she was capable of sounding as she surveyed the three remaining delinquents. "What's for dinner?"


	9. Rain

Wanda always liked the rain. She didn't know why; it just always made her feel safe.

When she was a little girl she used to sit by the great window in the twins' room, curl up and watch the great bolts of lightning cut across the sky as the rain fell down around them. Those were the times that she felt the most at peace; especially with her developing powers, it was a refuge that she needed. Thunderstorms were destructive and chaotic and uncontrollable, but they were still beautiful and they were still capable of doing good. Looking out at the explosions in the sky, it was easy for Wanda to feel like she wasn't a monster; she wasn't anything more than a girl.

There wasn't rain in the asylum. There wasn't anything; sun, snow, rain, lightning, along with all of the things that used to make Wanda happy had seemingly ceased existence behind those white sterilized walls designed to keep her prisoner from the outside world- and from herself.

Years later, after she'd finally managed to escape her prison, the first time she saw the rain it came as a surprise. She had almost managed to convince herself that rain didn't exist anymore; that maybe all it had ever been was a dream in the first place.

No longer did she have her big window to look up at the sky, but Wanda was able to make due. the window in her new bedroom at the Brotherhood house was small, but she didn't need too much space. Just seeing the rain sometimes- a genuine reminder to her that she truly was free once more- was good enough for her.

"You still doing that?"

The voice tore her from her thoughts with a sharp jolt, and Wanda spun around to see none other than her brother standing in the doorway of her room. Her look of confusion quickly gave way to an icy glare.

"Haven't you ever heard of knocking?"

"Haven't you ever heard of locking your door?" he returned with his usual dry sarcasm, raising a thin eyebrow. Wanda glowered.

"It's my room," she shot back. "I shouldn't have to." There was silence after she spoke; that was strange for him, and against her better judgment she glanced back again just to see if he'd left. He hadn't. Her mouth twitched in irritation. "Why are you even here?"

He shrugged, looking almost... awkward standing in the doorway. "It's raining. I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

She turned her back on him again, choosing instead to focus on the smooth, cool droplets of water as they slid and wove slowly down the window's clear glass. "I've never been afraid of thunderstorms."

"Yeah," he replied in a quiet voice. "I know."

"Besides," she growled, her face darkening as her mind reminded her once more to whom she was speaking to. "It's not like you care what happens to me anyhow."

Pietro was quiet again for a moment, and she allowed bitter satisfaction to wash over her, filling her mouth and sliding down her throat, drenching her lips in sourness and both rejuvenating and sickening her. She didn't want to hear his excuses right now; she didn't want to hear them ever. She just wanted him to go away.

And then, in a voice so light and quiet that it almost seemed to dance on the sound of rain pounding against the window, he murmured: "I do. I always have." 

She turned around in surprise, but he was already gone, the door swinging shut in his wake. She turned her eyes back to the rain and as another boom of thunder shook the sky she forced the event out of her mind. I didn't matter what he said anymore, or how he felt; he was no longer her brother, and he never would be again.

Silently, Wanda stood from her seat, walked over to where her brother had been standing just minutes before, and bolted her bedroom door. This time, she vowed, it would stay locked.

**AN: This is for **_**I'vebeenLOKI'Dyetagain**_** (by the way, since I'm too shy to PM this, thank you for all your reviews and for sharing your thoughts on my stories, you truly are awesome), who specifically wanted to see something centering around Wanda and Pietro's relationship as siblings. I, personally, am fascinated by their family dynamic in all verses, but especially in Evo. Wanda is one of the few opportunities Pietro gets to show true emotion and vulnerability, and we know that he does blame himself for a lot of what happened to her. I wish this had been delved into it a little bit more in the show; so this is my take on Pietro and Wanda's relationship just after Wanda gets out of the asylum (this is probably taking place while she's still being trained by Harkness). Pietro sort of really wants to reform a genuine bond with his sister, yet he is a complete duck-brain at expressing his emotions, and Wanda is an angry person who lacks both people skills and empathy, especially towards those she's so dead-set against. And so... this happens.**


	10. Pizza

_(Alternatively titled "Reason #1172 That It Sucks To Be Lance Alvers")_

Lance wanted pizza for dinner. That was literally all he wanted.

He didn't even start out wanting pizza. As usual, that night the job of dinner had been abandoned to Fred. however, the large boy must have been feeling a bit off his game that night- or perhaps he was just distracted by Todd, whose spontaneous round of _Sing Sing Revolution _was growing shriekier by the minute. Whatever the reason was, it wasn't long before the downstairs of the Brotherhood house was filling up with thick black smoke.

"Sorry, Lance!" called Fred, thundering down the stairs as fast as his legs could carry him. Lance was busy pushing open the living room window, grumbling something about toads, the French, and good ideas.

With the house filling with smoke and the still warbling Toad upstairs showing no hint of tuning down anytime soon, Pietro chose that moment to run through the door, flinging it open behind him with a bang. "Aw man," he whined, drawing to a stop. "Did Wanda set Toad on fire again?"

"Not qu-," Lance started to say, but he was cut off by another voice from upstairs. "No," proclaimed Wanda from the top of the stairs, her hands glowing ominously, "but she's about to!" All three of the mutants on the lower level froze in place as Wanda vanished, and they all stood in shock-still anticipation for what they knew was coming. It was only a few seconds before a loud cry of "Toad, knock it off!" rang out, followed by a high-pitched screech. However, the music and singing almost immediately picked up again- this time accompanied by the loud thuds of jumping.

"That's _it_!" Wanda hollered, and a few seconds later the entire house was filled with the sound of My Chemical Romance blasting from Wanda's own speakers. "Sing along to _that_!"

In response, Toad's music just cranked louder, and Pietro pressed his hands over his ears. "Oh, come on! I hate both of these songs!"

"We could just order a pizza," suggested Fred weakly, but with the way the house was practically vibrating with the loud music he doubted that anyone actually heard him.

However, Lance- despite the pounding headache he had developed from the smoke alone, nevermind the blaring music- came through. "I don't care what song it is, shut them up!" he shouted to Pietro, before pulling a hand away from his ears and gesturing to Fred. "I'll call, just get me a phone."

In the time it took Fred to find a phone, Pietro had already vanished upstairs; and Toad's singing, if it was even possible, seemed to have intensified. Taking the phone from Fred, Lance started to dial the number of the pizza place (many other incidents similar to this had left the whole household knowing the number well- as well as the pizza place knowing theirs), but was still wincing at the noise coming from upstairs. he only mercy was that Wanda's music seemed to have lowered ever so slightly.

"Yeah," Lance said into the phone as the slightly accented voice of the pizza guy answered on the other end. "Hi Jesús- yeah, it's Lance this time, don't worry- I'm good, thanks... Could I get-"

What Lance was about to order was cut off, however, when all of a sudden AC/DC's Shoot to Thrill suddenly filled the house with pounding music once more. There was no question who it was. Fred winced and Lance covered the phone's speaker with his palm as he hollered a thunderous "Pietro!" up the stairs. However, if they could barely hear him before, there was no way anyone could hear him over the loud music now.

"Is this gonna turn into-" Fred began hesitantly, just as Wanda's music cranked up to match her brother's. Lance pressed a hand to his face and nodded.

"Ohh yeah..."

Suddenly, in a flash of blue light, all the doors in the house began swinging open then slamming shut at once. Fred covered his ears with his massive hands and wisely decided that the best course of action he could take in this scenario was to retreat from the house. "Don't forget to order sausage!" he called over his shoulder before pushing out the doorway, abandoning Lance to the house of madness.

Lance groaned, rolling his eyes as he listened to the bewildered voice of the pizza man ask if anyone was still there. "Yeah, right here," he replied, having to shout to be heard over the racket. "Can we get six large pizzas, one with sausage- no, that's six pizzas," Lance corrected, clenching his fist around the phone to the point that he was pretty sure he heard the plastic crack. "Yeah, I know you can hardly hear me, I- no, okay, six large pizzas- _large_- one with sausage, two with pepperoni, one plain, one with apple and bacon- yeah, you heard right, apple and- seriously? Sorry buddy, hang on," he said hastily before sticking his head out the window. "_Seriously_," he called to Pietro, who was currently darting around the backyard amidst numerous small but noisy explosions. "Where did you find fireworks?"

At that moment, the smoke detectors- something Lance hadn't even known that they had before that moment- began to wail, no doubt as a result of Wanda's powers.

"Oh, come on!" Pietro shouted, zipping back inside. "How am I supposed to-" He cut off with a choke as Lance snagged the collar of his sweater and yanked him back.

"Do you mind? I'm ordering here," he grumbled, gesturing to the phone in his hand. The speedster's face lit up.

"_Pizza_?!"

Suddenly, all the racket- the music, the singing, the sirens, the slamming doors- cut off at once, leaving the house feeling oddly empty. The only sound was that of Wanda and Toad thundering down the stairs in response to Pietro's cry.

"Did somebody say pizza?"

"I'm hungry, yo!"

"Enough!" Lance exclaimed, fixing a hard glare on each of them in turn before returning to the phone. "Sorry about that, Jesús. So, apples and bacon on one- hello? Hello?"

There was no longer anyone on the other line.


	11. Silence

The little blonde girl stumbled over a pair of her own sneakers as she scrambled to make it to her room. She could hear him behind her, pounding up the stairs on legs much longer than her own, and she had never been so thankful that she spent all her time running around with Sadie and Jenny at recess instead of sitting on the swings with Rachel. No matter how strong he was, she was still faster.

She slammed the door shut and immediately pressed the tiny button on the doorknob to lock it- just in time, for no sooner had she done that than heavy fists began to rain blows upon her wooden door, accompanied by the frenzied shouting which she had come to know all too well.

She took several steps back, just in case the door broke again- but with the phone clutched in her hand, she told herself that she wasn't afraid. "I'm not opening the door," she called out over the yelling, "until you stop!"

Another valley of shouts and curses pelted the door, each word hitting her with the sting of a bullet; but Tabitha forced herself to pretend that she couldn't hear them. Suddenly there came another frantic voice- the high, shrill voice of a woman. "Stop it, stop, leave her alone-" The voice cut off with a sharp cry of pain, and Tabitha bit down hard on her lip.

"Stop it!" she yelled, trying to force any quavering fear out of her voice. "Daddy, I'm calling the police if you don't stop it _right now_! Stop hurting Mommy!"

"Gimme the goddamn phone!" Her father's voice was as fierce and angry as a lion's roar. Tabitha took another step back, and another, and another, until her back hit the bed. Silently she crawled underneath, shimmying along on her stomach until she was totally hidden. One side of the comforter was drooping down to the floor; she caught sight of the edge of her blankie skimming the carpet, so she grabbed it and pulled it underneath with her. Blankie got scared easily; Tabby wanted to make sure that it knew that they were safe. Her father was still screaming.

Funnily enough, she didn't even know how this argument had begun. Maybe it was because of money- it seemed like that was all Mommy and Daddy fought over most days. Or maybe they were fighting because of her.

Her mother's voice rose up over the din. "Tabby, sweetie, don't call anyone, okay? Give us the phone." And then, "Let me talk to- augh!"

"Mommy!" The cry tore from Tabitha's throat, high and shrill, and she squeezed her eyes shut because she knew that he had to be hurting her again. She didn't want her mommy to get hurt. "Stop it! Stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it-"

"Shut up! Everybody just _**shut up**_!"

And then there was silence. Tabby held her breath, eyes wide; in her house, silence was never a good thing. All she could do now was wait.

And slowly, slowly, the door creaked open.

**AN: You know those characters who you start out really hating and then over the course of the story they just start to grow on you a bit more and by the end they end up being one of your favorite characters? Yeah, Tabby's like that for me. Tabby is my baby, and even though it was only for a season I still consider her part of the Brotherhood.**


	12. Dreams

The monster was following him, and even though he was running and running as fast as he could, he wasn't fast enough. He couldn't escape it.

It had already taken Wanda. He had watched as it grabbed her in it's shadowy claws and sucked her in to it's monstrous mass, tearing her away from him as it swallowed her whole. Pietro had listened to her screaming and he had tried to save her- but there wasn't anything he could do.

And now he was all alone, and it was coming after him, and he couldn't get away fast enough. He kept calling out, for his sister, for his father, for anyone, until his throat burned like fire and his voice was little more than a hoarse whisper over the all-consuming roar of the wind and the shadow monster behind him. Yet still, no one came. He was alone and he wasn't fast enough.

An then he felt it's shadowy tendrils snare around his ankles, icy cold and thick like wet paper. It pulled his feet out from under him, and the little boy screamed.

He screamed and he screamed and he continued screaming until her felt warm arms wrap around his shoulders and a soft voice began to murmur to him in the darkness. With tears streaming down his cheeks, he buried his small face in his sister's messy nest of dark hair. Wanda held him until his trembling ceased and his sobs slowly subsided into whimpers.

"You scream like a girl," Wanda stated matter-of-factly once she seemed certain that he wasn't about to start sobbing all over again.

"That's mean. You're a girl."

"I know I am," she replied. "I'm not saying it mean, I'm just saying you scream like a girl. You do, Pi."

"Do not," he muttered sulkily, still being smothered by Wanda's hair.

"Do to," she retorted, gently rubbing circles on his back as he hiccupped away the last of his tears. Pietro had never known where she'd learned to do that, but he was glad she knew. Wanda could always make him feel better.

"Did you have the dream again?"

"Yeah," he replied quietly. "That same one."

"You know it's just a dream, right?"

"Course I do." He moved his head so that he was resting against her shoulder, but he didn't pull away.

"I'd never go away."

"I know that," he shot back, frowning. Wanda sighed, easily seeing through his defensive retorts.

"Do you want me to stay in this bed tonight?"

Pressing his lips tightly together, the boy pulled his sister down so that she was lying on the bed next to him. "Yes," he muttered into her shoulder, and Wanda sighed as she hugged her twin closer to her body and allowed her own eyes to slip shut.

xXxXxXxXx

When Pietro's eyes shot open, the first thing he did was grope for Wanda. His hands met only empty air. Where was she? She was supposed to be right there with him- where had she gone? She had just promised that she wouldn't leave him…

Slowly, he remembered where he was, and his frantic grasping ceased. He was in his own bed, at the Brotherhood house. He wasn't a little boy- he was sixteen years old. And Wanda… Wanda wasn't here. She was in the asylum, and she wasn't coming back.

Pietro's bed felt empty when he lay back down. He hugged his pillow to his chest, and- much like in the dream- he felt his eyes burn with unshed tears. This was the only tame he knew that it was safe for him to cry- in the dead of night, when there was no one around to call him weak. But this time, Wanda wasn't there to comfort him.


	13. College

"Yo, Freddy- you ever think about college much?"

"Huh?"

"Y'know- college. The future. What comes after."

"Toad, we ain't even gong to school anymore."

"Yeah, I know- that's what I been thinking about. Just look at us, Freddy- five high school dropouts who can't even get a good job cause everyone thinks that we're freaks. Wanda ain't even been to school since she was a kid. The only one of us _close _to graduating was Lance, but now even he's out of school. Do you ever think about what's gonna… you know, happen to us?"

"I dunno- not really."

"But it's something to think about, y'know? I mean, did you ever want to be something when you were a kid? Did you ever think you were gonna grow up and be someone worth remembering?"

"Sure I did, lot's of times. I wanted to be an astronaut."

"Not sure that's such a great idea now- but I get what you mean. I used to want to be a cop, can you believe that?"

"Officer Toad- yeah right!"

"... how about now? What do you wanna be now?"

"Not sure… I kinda want go back to a farm somewhere. I grew up on one; I'd like to go back. I'd like to meet a nice, pretty girl who won't ever laugh at me and who'll let me cook for her. Then I want a few good kids and a dog. That's be nice. I like dogs."

"I'll tell you what I want- I wanna _do _stuff. I wanna see the world- Italy, Paris, Rome, those places. And I'll take Wanda with me, because I'll bet she'd really love to see all those places too. Maybe we'll get married, and I'd treat her real good like she deserves. And after that… I don't know."

"You can come live on the farm with me. We'd have room."

"You really mean that? Hey, thanks Freddy- that's nice."

"Well you're my friend, Toad. That's what friends do."

"Least I know one thing- no matter how crazy things are gonna get for us, we'll always be pals. Right, Freddy?"

"Yeah- you got that right, Toad."

**AN: This one I wasn't as sure about. For one thing, it's pure dialogue, which I've never done before, but since they're both pretty much just laying there lethargically and talking I figured that I might as well try it. What do you guys think? Confusing? There are only two people talking, but it's all your opinion, and I want to know. Could I have made it better?**

**I like to think that Toad, next to Lance, was always the one in the Brotherhood most concerned with the future, even if he didn't really have a set course. I don't know why- maybe it's just because I know a guy a lot like him and that's the way he is. But Pietro doesn't want to think about the future and Fred strikes me as more of the "here and now" type just because he doesn't bother to think about what could come next... so this is just my thoughts. And seriously, if the Brotherhood hadn't signed up with SHIELD, what would have happened to them?**


	14. Pregnant

"Pietro?" Wanda called out as she ventured into the living room. From the couch, where he was boredly tossing a tennis ball up in the air and catching it again, Pietro looked up.

"What is it?" he enquired. "Kind of busy doing nothing here."

"We need to talk." Wanda sat down at the end of the couch as Pietro pushed himself up, eyeing her suspiciously.

"Something tells me that's not a _good _thing... what happened?" Before Wanda could get a word in edgewise, however, Pietro continued, spouting off paranoia. "Did you kill someone? Again? Who was it this time? Was it Toad? Did you kill Toad, because I know how often I threaten to do it but that doesn't mean I actually _wanted _it to happen, and even though I'm not going to tell anyone it still isn't really a good thing, although if you need help hiding the body I _totally _know a place _and _a guy willing to take the fall if that's what it comes to-" Wanda huffed, rolling her eyes, and Pietro cut himself off. "Okay, what _did _you do?"

"Pietro," Wanda asked, "have you thought that I've put on a bit more weight than usual?"

"I- uhh- what?" Pietro's face went pale. "Umm, no, of course not, not at all, you don't look any fatter than you always have-"

"_What was that_?" Wanda asked sharply.

"I mean, no! No, of course not, Wanda, sister, _Wanda_, not at all!" Wanda narrowed her eyes, and Pietro held up his hands, scrambling back a few feet while still frantically protesting. "What I'm trying to say is, you look great! You always have! Seriously!"

"Pietro," Wanda ground out through gritted teeth, "what I'm trying to say is that I think I'm _pregnant_!"

"You're..." Pietro went still, and silence fell over the room. You could have heard a pin drop; and as Wanda studied her brother's frozen expression, she saw his eye twitch.

And then: explosion.

"_**What**_?" Her brother sprung up from his seat, his hands automatically clenching into fists as he paced from one end of the room to the other in the time that it took Wanda to blink. "Are you kidding? Are you sure? Who was it? How do you know? Are you _sure_? What would possess you to even do that? Why would you do that? What happened? How did it happen? _Who was it_?" He finally stopped, his eyes narrowed and his face dangerously red. Wanda, unfazed, simply shrugged.

"I'm not sure," she replied. "It was the guy with... the stick. You know the one."

"No," Pietro ground out carefully, his fingernails digging into his palms. "I _don't_. Mind giving me a _name_?"

"Red eyes, playing cards, kind of scruffy-" Wanda snapped her fingers, nodding. "Oh yeah, that's the guy. Gambit!"

"Gambit! I should have _known_!"

Without warning Pietro bolted from the room, nearly bowling over an oblivious Lance as he was walking through the doorway. "What the-" Lance exclaimed, grabbing hold of the doorframe to keep from falling over as the front door slammed shut behind Pietro. In the middle of the living room, Wanda shrugged innocently.

Lance raised his eyebrows. "Umm... you do know that April Fools Day is _next week_, right?"

"Yeah," Wanda shrugged. "But Pietro always likes being one step ahead so much that I figured he'd probably appreciate it if I gave him his prank a bit early."

**AN: Evo part-time-villain smackdown: Quicksilver vs. Gambit! Who will be the winner? On a sidenote; Pietro in all incarnations is **_**the **_**overprotective brother.**


	15. Poetry

For once, it was actually quiet in the Brotherhood house. being as rare of an occurrence as this is, Pietro was attempting to take full advantage of it by doing the one thing that almost always guaranteed him some peace; meditation. You wouldn't think that meditation would be a good idea for a hyperactive speedster, but surprisingly Pietro found that it was a very effective way for him to be at peace and to clear his mind- something he didn't get to do very often around the Brotherhood house.

However, no sooner had he started then a loud bang was heard downstairs, followed by a howl of sheer agony and rage Pietro had only ever heard in corny horror movies after every person but one was dead: _**"TOAD!"**_

Muttering profanities that he was in no way willing to repeat in the presence of his sister, Pietro trudged down the stairs with a scowl. Whoever had interrupted his me-time was going to pay- or, at least so he thought until he actually reached the bottom of the stairs, and his interest was peaked far beyond the point of irritation.

Lance stood in the doorway; his hair messy, his eyes wild, and his face an odd shade of red that really didn't look healthy. Lance spun or Pietro as soon as he saw him, and barely managed to grunt out through gritted teeth- "_Where. Is. He?_"

"Umm-" Pietro took a step back, for once feeling genuine fear of his friend. "I don't know. Out? Why, what'd he do?"

As Wanda ventured into the room as well, also drawn out by the sheer force of Lance's distress, Lance began to pace back and forth, his mood abruptly shifting from homicidal to despairing in the space of a few seconds. "I'm screwed," he muttered, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. "Screwed, screwed, I'm so so so screwed. I'm screwed." He spun around again, his eyes clouding over with rage. "_**Toad**_!" A slight tremor shook the house, and Pietro took another step back.

"Okay..." Discreetly, Pietro gestured behind his back for Wanda to take a few steps away from the irate rocktumbler. "Tell you what Lance, why don't you just let out all of the negative emotions now? This way you can fully enjoy pounding Toad later, and not accidentally kill all of us now." he actually wasn't that bad at calming people down, he mused as slowly Lance appeared to react to his words, and his expression shifted slightly. "That's right. Now what did the slimeball do?"

"He- my-" Lance clenched fists tightly, and Pietro gestured for him to continue. "My poetry. He found it in my room, and he read it."

Wanda raised an eyebrow, and it was only then that it dawned on Pietro that she had not been around for the great Poetry Fiasco of last year. It had taken place at the beginning of the school year, just a few weeks after the Soccer Game Incident. Lance, in his dreamy haze of Kitty-induced romanticism, had taken to writing poetry... notebooks and notebooks of poetry, filled with everything from sonnets about the weather that day, to haikus about Kitty's hair, and odes to her eyes, quatrains on her smile, tankas on her sweaters... it had been an affliction. Eventually this dangerous habit had come to the attention of the rest of the Brotherhood, who had managed to convince Lance of the error of his ways before he did something he would regret (such as showing the monstrosities to Kitty herself). They had all assumed Lance had then thrown the books away. Apparently, they were wrong.

"So what?" asked Wanda, who Pietro knew for a fact to indulge in a bit of poetry writing herself. "he found your poetry. What's the big deal?"

"He took them. _All _of them." Lance's right eye twitched dangerously, and Pietro's stomach sunk as he realized where this was going. "And he _gave them to Kitty_."

"Oh." Pietro took another, very large step back up the stairs, frantically gesturing for Wanda to do the same. "Alright, Lance, I see where you're coming from there, but that's not any reason to-"

"Kitty will never love me again!" Lance moaned, clutching his head. Suddenly his hands returned to fists. "I'm gonna _murder him_!"

"Okay then, good luck with that!" As another heavy tremor shook the house, Pietro decided that enough was enough. In the blink of an eye he had sped down the stairs, swept up his sister in his arms, and taken off out the door. "Bye!" he called, leaving Lance in his dust as the siblings raced for safety.

Left alone, Lance had no one else to take his anger out on. He paced around the house for a long time, punching everything he was sure wouldn't break and even some things he knew would. Finally he retreated to his room and took out his frustrations through thoroughly pounding his pillow and then violently strumming his guitar while blasting the loudest music he could find.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed before he suddenly hear the front door slam, and everything seemed to freeze. Hastily shutting off the music, Lance silently listened to the sound of Toad's footsteps creeping up the stairs as the unsuspecting mutant called out, "Hello? Anybody home?"

An evil smile spread across Lance's face.

**AN: Well, that's it. Toad's dead. Sorry, folks!**


	16. Pregnant Again

"Lance!" Pietro strode into Lance's room, not even pausing to knock on the door. The brunet mutant looked up from his guitar, raising an eyebrow as the speedster sat down on his bed right next to him. "We need to talk."

"Get out of my room."

"No, because we need to talk." Pietro, unfazed, leaned back on Lance's bed with his hands behind his head. "Now before I say this, I just want to put one thing out there- neither you nor I am ready for this at all, so I am totally not above adoption if that is what it comes to. However, there is one thing I absolutely refuse to do-"

Lance, with his hand half extended to grab the glass of water on his bedside table, had now froze. A strange look came over his face as he stared at the other boy. "What are you saying?"

Pietro shrugged, a tranquil expression on his face. "It is against my religion."

"You're an atheist."

"True!" Pietro placed a hand on Lance's shoulder, and the rocktumbler shifted uncomfortably. "But that is besides the point. Anyway, Lance, what I'm trying to say is-"

"So I want to hear this?"

"Probably not, but I'm telling you anyway, because this is both our problem now. Lance-" Pietro gave Lance's shoulder a tight squeeze, and he winced. However, even that wasn't as disturbing as what Pietro had to say next. "I'm pregnant."

Lance was silent for a moment, and Pietro tilted his head as he stared at the other boy, trying to gouge the unreadable expression on his face. Finally Lance let out a sigh and stood, brushing Pietro's hand off and taking his guitar with him.

"Fine," he muttered. "_I'll _leave my room."

As Lance strode out of his bedroom and trudged down the stairs, ignoring Pietro's calls behind him, he shook his head. The speedster should know better that to think that he of all people would forget about it being April Fools Day. Especially living in the Brotherhood house, Lance couldn't afford it.

"Wanda," he heard Pietro whine behind him. "You said it would work!"

"Your delivery was wrong," Wanda retorted from her own room, and Lance couldn't help but smirk.

**AN: Has anyone ever read Loosescrapper's Lietro comics on DeviantArt? I just discovered them a few days ago- I'm not really in to mpreg, but theirs are actually pretty good! However, I couldn't help but think while reading them that if anything like that ever happened in real life, Lance just would be... done. Completely and totally done. So, you get Pietro attempting to give Lance the scare of his life and Lance just nopeing out. This is why I shouldn't be allowed to write on a sugar high, guys! (I've been freaking out all weekend over Halloween candy. Someone help me.)**

**Also, yes, Wanda just had to make a pregnancy joke at the end, because Wanda is an asshole.**

**((This is my most Lietro drabble yet! :D Lietro is perfect. And so is Lancitty, for that matter. To be honest, I think I basically just ship Lance and Pietro with... everyone. Once again,_ help me_.))**


	17. Jail

The atmosphere was heavy as Lance slowly trudged out of the grey brick building to approach the jeep parked right outside, waiting for him. With the eyes of the majority of the Brotherhood boring into his back, he slid into the passenger's seat, scowling.

"I just can't believe you got tossed in jail," Pietro remarked from the driver's seat. One look at his face made it clear that he was enjoying this entire fiasco a bit too much.

"I was framed," was all Lance said in reply, still glaring at the dashboard.

"You tried to kill Summers, yo," Toad shrugged from the backseat. "We all saw it."

"It wasn't my fault! He started it!"

"Oh, sure," drawled Wanda. "That's why you're the one who gets sent to prison."

"Actually, that's probably because he also destroyed a convenience store-"

"Shut up, Pietro," Lance interjected sharply, giving his friend a hard glare. Pietro simply smirked in reply, starting up the car's engine as he did so.

Wanda stared out the window as the prison slowly grew smaller and smaller as the group left it behind them. "Xavier is going to cover us, right?"

"Of course he is," replied Pietro carelessly, waving his hand. "It's already done. How else do you think I managed to get this one out?"

Lance, at this point, had just about had enough. "Need I remind you that you've had to be busted out of jail before too, _twice_- by _Magneto _of all people?"

Muttering something indistinguishable under his breath, Pietro's grip tightened around the steering wheel as he, with surprising skill, evaded crashing head-on into another car as they sped down the street. Wanda considered mentioning the fact that her brother was driving on the wrong side of the road, but she was distracted by Toad's simpering reminder that she ought to put her seatbelt on. She wasn't sure how a casual safety tip turned into Toad leaning across Wanda's lap in order to do it for her, but the next thing anyone knew there was a loud screech and Toad was suddenly sent flying out of the open window.

"What?" she shrugged, leaning back into her seat as both Lance and Pietro turned to stare at her. "He wasn't wearing his seatbelt.

Next to her, Fred very deliberately buckled his own seatbelt. Lance cast a side glance at Pietro, raising his eyebrows. "And _we're _the ones who end up in prison..."

**AN: Everyone knows how bad of an idea it is to mention Pietro's stints in prison to him. Lance just doesn't care. Maybe one day I'll do a oneshot on Pietro's awful driving all on it's own...**


	18. Brawl

A hard, clumsy punch to the jaw knocked Pietro down before he could run away, and in an instant they were all on top of him at once.

There had to be at least three... five... no, eight kids, coming at him from all sides, surrounding him, blocking him in, making it impossible for him to get away. He wasn't even sure what he had done this time; it probably had something to do with filling all of the glue bottles with water in class today, or maybe for tripping those few kids in the hallway. He wasn't sure, but what he did know for certain now was that he was in big trouble.

The first one to come at him is Hanna; he rolls away before her kick can connect with his head, but he's taken by surprise when another hit from the opposite side knocks the wind out of his stomach. When Hanna's foot connects with his back, he hardly feels it through the pain.

And then someone else is seizing him by his collar, yanking him up, and Pietro lashes out. Faster than the human eye can follow his fist connects with the jaw of whoever is holding him and he suddenly finds himself released. He manages to scramble to his feet before three of the children come at him at once, and he merely ducks to the side to allow them to clamber around each other in search of him. But as he does so a girl lunges and seizes hold of his hair, and he lets out a cry as his head is suddenly yanked back and he finds himself falling to his knees.

"Apologize," snarls the boy he had punched before, suddenly very close to his face. Pietro doesn't reply, so the boy demands it again. "Say you're sorry!"

Pietro spits out a few words his foster parents would have his skin for repeating, and it isn't long before he's spitting out dirt as the children throw him to the ground again and begin to whale on him.

"White haired freak!" he hears one older boy snarl and that does it; Pietro uses his speed to his advantage and scrambles to his feet, knocking three of them flat before they can catch their breath and then seizing another boy in a headlock. A girl in pigtails comes at him with a fistful of dirt and tries to shove it in his mouth, but a swift punch to the jaw knocks her flat. He grew up with his sister for seven years; he's never been above hitting a girl.

Even though he's handling himself just fine, it isn't long before Pietro realizes that he's got help on one side; a boy in a white t-shirt, light haired and dark skinned, beating back at the attackers with already bruised fists. Pietro exchanges a glance with Evan, and the other boy nods.

The problem with going to a crummy upper New York public elementary school, Pietro muses as he sends a kick into an approaching fifth grader's knee, is that when there are fights on the playground a lot of the teachers don't even seem to care either way. This is one of those times.

It doesn't take long to get the whole fight sorted out; after seeing the way their predecessors were so swiftly dispatched, many children were more content to watch and cheer on the proceedings rather than actually getting involved. Pietro and Evan only need to take out a few more kids before the fight finally ends entirely, broken up but two very angry teachers who forcibly dragged the few children that were still brawling down to the principal's office practically by their teeth. Pietro and Evan, of course, were included in this unlucky group.

Sitting side-by-side on a bench outside of the principal's office, Pietro spares Evan a glance. His friend's lip is busted, and there is a large scrape on the side of his face; even though he knows it's vain, Pietro can't help but wonder if he himself looks any better. Evan catches him staring and gives him a wry, humorless grin; Pietro returns the gesture by holding up his hand.

Evan slaps his own into it, and the two exchange nods. They know how this exchange works by now; they've been here often enough. They've got each other's backs, at least for the time being; and even though Pietro doesn't trust anyone but himself, knowing that he's got Evan by his side in a fight makes the sting of his sore jaw a little less noticeable.

**AN: I don't really picture Pietro as being much of a scrapper, and he's definitely muscular but it's in sort of a lean, not-built-for-close-combat way. However, I do think that he can throw a punch; and based off of my headcanon that as a kid he really didn't fit in with his peers that well after an early childhood spent living in basic isolation alongside Wanda, he kind of had to. Only later would he figure out that the tongue can be more fearsome than the sword.**


	19. Guilt

"_Pietro_!"

As his sister thundered down the stairs, Pietro didn't even look away from the video game he was occupied with winning. "I didn't do it."

A pause. "Oh," Wanda remarked, sounding the slightest bit surprised. Then, "_Toad_!"

"Hey, don't look at me, yo." Toad, too, refused to be distracted from the video game which he was currently losing to Pietro. "I didn't do nothin'."

"Fred?"

Fred looked up from the book he was reading and rolled his eyes. "When do _I _ever do anything?"

Uncertainly, Wanda slowly spun on her heel until she was facing Lance, who was sitting very resolutely on the couch with his eyes fixed on his lap- the picture of guilt. "Lance," Wanda asked, her voice sounding practically... coaxing, like she was talking to a young child. It gave Pietro the chills. "Did _you _throw my hairbrush in the toilet?"

"Dropped," Lance corrected, not looking up. "And it was an accident."

"Oh no," muttered Fred, evidently forgetting about his invulnerability as he used the cover of his book the shield himself from the impending storm. Todd and Pietro still couldn't be distracted from their game.

There was a loud explosion and the sound of someone screaming, but no one bothered to look up.

**AN: I figure that at some point the boys have to get used to Wanda's temper. Not that they learn to not tick her off, the just stop reacting to it.**


	20. Traps

"Fred," said Wanda, standing in the doorway leading out to the backyard with her arms crossed, studying the large boy quizzically. "Do I want to ask what you're doing?"

Fred looked up at the girl in front of him and gave her an amiable smile. "Ain't it obvious?" he asked, holding up one of the green and red plants littering the ground around him. "I'm planting a garden."

"Oh." Wanda wrinkled her nose. "That's... nice."

"Yup," Fred nodded proudly, giving the little plant in his hand an affectionate pat before gently placing it in the ground and patting soil into place around it. "Lance said that we can't keep relying on stealing things, and need to be more 'self-sufficient'- and then Pietro said, 'what do you wanna do, plant a garden?'. And then I started thinking, and I thought, 'hey, that's not a bad idea-' so I planted a garden!" He grinned. "We're gonna have a real nice backyard in the summer."

Wanda leaned lazily against the doorframe, watching as Blob placed the last of the tiny plants into the ground. "I always liked gardens," she murmured thoughtfully. "Father never had one..." As Fred rose and brushed dirt off of his legs, she followed him into the house. "Those sure are some strange looking plants, though. What kind are they?"

"Oh, they're Venus fly traps," Fred relied blithely, not noticing the way Wanda stopped in her tracks behind him or how her eyes widened.

Suddenly from the backyard there came a loud cry of, "Yo, look at all these bugs back here!" This was quickly followed by a snapping sound and a high pitched squeal that could only come from one person. A grin spread across Wanda's face.

"Freddy," she remarked, practically skipping after him into the kitchen, "I like your garden already."

**AN: I don't write about Fred and Toad enough, do I? Honestly, you could probably re-title this story "The Pietro Show". This needs to change.**


	21. Cow

It wasn't unusual for Lance to wake up in the middle of the night needing to use the bathroom. In retrospect, it probably had something to do with the habit he had developed early on in life of always downing a full glass of water before going to bed. He never had any idea as to exactly why he did this; but after performing the same routine over and over every single night, it had quickly become a habit he had never bothered to break.

On most of the nights Lance was roused from his sleep, he was the only one awake. He would be lying if he said he didn't like it that way; in the daytime, the Brotherhood house was nearly never silent, so the spare few moments of peace at night were almost surreal. Sometimes (though _no way_ would he ever confess to it) Lance had even taken advantage of the tranquility to check in on his housemates while they slept.

Fred slept like a rock, and snored loud enough to wake the dead. Lance was amazed that anyone could manage to sleep through it; though Toad, who slept in the room just across the hall, didn't seem to have any problems, Todd slept as if he were melting into the bed; limbs splayed everywhere, covers wild and twisted around his small body. He, Lance has quickly discovered early on, would spring awake at the slightest sound- it had been a very awkward conversation trying to explain what Lance was doing leering over the younger boy's bed at three in the morning. It was necessary to be _very _quiet around him.

The Maximoff twins, as Lance learned, really did have more in common than blood alone. The both slept curled up on their sides, bringing to mind the image of a child much younger than they both were. Wanda was a fairly sound sleeper; she always had a faint crease to her brow, as if she was being haunted by her own memories even in her dreams. The thing about Pietro, on the other hand, was that he didn't sleep; he _crashed_. Once he was asleep, next to nothing- not even Freddy's snoring- could wake him.

That was the first sign that night that something was amiss; passing Pietro's bedroom in the middle of the night, after once again having been roused from his sleep, Lance was surprised to find that Pietro's door was wide open. The speedster's bed was empty.

Frowning, Lance fell silent- and that was when he heard the noises downstairs. His quest for the bathroom forgotten, Lance followed the sounds past Fred's door, and Todd's- which was also open and empty- and down the stairs. He stopped just outside the kitchen door; he could see a light on. Quietly, he concealed himself in the shadows.

"I don't care!" It was Pietro's voice that was whispering. "This is a distinctly bad idea!"

"Ha, yeah, coming from you." The second voice belonged to Toad. "That's rich, Quickie. Look, we do this tonight, then the X-Geeks find it in their hallway tomorrow morning. It's a done deal!"

"I don't even know if I can lift it, let alone run it wall the way there!" Pietro's voice, for once, sounded strained, uneasy. "Besides that- where did you even get a cow?"

Lance blinked.

Inside the room a third, more husky voice spoke up, eager to add it's input- "_Mooooo_!"

Shaking his head slightly, Lance started back up the stairs. It would be better, he decided, if he just didn't ask. Ever. After all, how else could he be expected to stay sane in this house?

**AN: There. Lance and Todd. See? I'm not all about the Pietro here, folks (even though I totally am).**

**Anyway, sorry I haven't updated for a few days. Real life comes first, right? Long story short- I had kind of a nervous breakdown Thursday/Friday, and I had to go to the hospital, and I just got out yesterday- yeah, not fun. But I'm not slacking off on you guys! I'm back, I'm better, and I am ready to write!**


	22. Hair

Fred had barely sat down on the couch when Todd wandered into the living room, his eyes scanning the area as he walked in. He seemed as if he were looking for something; Fred sat up a bit when his friend turned a questioning look on him. "Yo, where'd Lance go?"

"I dunno," the blond boy shrugged. "I just got home."

Todd's frown deepened. "You sure you didn't see him or nothin'? His car ain't in the driveway?"

"No. If it was, I'd tell you."

"Yeah, I know," Todd retorted, his voice a bit sharper than usual. Fred recoiled back, his brow furrowing to hide his hurt feeling. Todd noticed this gesture and winced, wandering over to the couch and sitting down next to Fred, cradling his chin in his hand. "Sorry Freddy," he muttered, sounding downtrodden. "I don't mean it like that. I'm just annoyed is all. Rocky's got something I need, and he promised he'd give it to me. Only I ain't seen him around all day."

Fred tilted his head slightly, reaching over to pat his friend gently on the back in a gesture of comfort. "Well, what was it you needed?"

Todd let out a dry laugh. "Would you believe me if I said shampoo?" Picking at a strand of his dry, scraggly hair, he pouted at it distastefully. "Lance's got such nice, long hair- I thought the guy could help me out a bit, y'know? Give a guy a break. I mean, it'd definitely help with the ladies... maybe even impress that pretty new cheerleader." He trailed off, a slight grin on his face at the thought of the pretty blonde who had recently transferred to Bayville High and almost immediately joined the cheerleading squad. What he wouldn't give to be noticed by a girl like _that_...

"Well, I wish I could help you out Toad," Fred shrugged, rubbing at his own recently shaved hair ruefully, "but I don't think I'm the best person to ask- anymore."

"_I _might be able to," spoke up a sudden voice from the hallway, and suddenly Tabitha stepped through the doorway, an inquisitive look on her face. "I heard you talking, and I think I might know something that could help."

Immediately, Toad was on his feet and practically scrambling off the back of the couch to hide behind Fred. "Hey, any help you've got to give, I don't need!" he exclaimed, not totally able to banish all the fear from his voice. "So you can just take whatever you've got and try to shove it off to Pietro or someone else, cause I ain't bitin'!"

Tabby shrugged, looking more than a little irked and the rather... violent reaction that her offer had elicited. "Your choice," she replied, reaching back into her pocket and pulling out something long and sharp that glinted in the sunlight. "All I was going to suggest was a little..." She snipped the scissors rather violently, causing both boys to jump. "Haircut."

Toad cowered, his eyes widening in pure terror. "_Aah_! No way!" he cried, shaking his head frantically. "No how! Not in _this _Toad's life! I ain't doing that man, and if you even _try _creepin' into my room in the middle of the night and messing with my hair you're gonna get such a face full of slime that you won't be breathing out of it right for a _month_!" He glowered at the energy manipulator, who simply smirked at him in return, clearly unfazed by his threats.

"Well, alright then!" She exclaimed. "Sorry I even offered! All I was going to say was that maybe a trim... get rid of some of those split ends... that new little cheer girl, Nora, sure has pretty blonde hair. I just thought that if you wanted to impress her, you'd want to look nice is all. Sue me for being wrong."

Tabby had hit on a nerve; even Fred was able to see it. Slowly, Toad's head raised to look at her, and as Fred watched his left eye twitched slightly.

After a moment of pregnant silence, Toad finally spoke; and his voice was heavy with regret. "Okay... what've you got in mind?"

xXxXx

"_Ohhhh god_..." Toad moaned, burying his face in his pillow. From where he was sitting at the end of his friend's bed, staring doubtfully at the younger boy, Fred shrugged sympathetically.

"I coulda told you this wasn't a good idea."

"I hate you. I hate her. I hate myself. I hate everything." One of Toad's gnarled hands twisted up in his newly clipped hair- or, what little there was left of it. "But most of all I hate this _stupid haircut_!"

"It's not that bad-" began Fred uncertainly, but he was cut off when suddenly the small amphibian mutant lunged up without warning and seized the front of Fred's shirt, pulling himself up to be eye level with the other boy. There was a glint of agonized madness in his yellow eyes that sent a chill down Fred's spine.

"Look at me, Freddy!" Toad demanded, his fist tightening around Fred's shirt. "_Look- at- me_! I'm hideous, yo! This is a _disaster_! That raging blonde psycho made me look like _Elvis_! I ain't never gonna impress Dora now, yo!"

"Okay, so it doesn't look good..." conceded Fred, not even bothering to argue anymore. Toad flopped back onto the bed again, landing on his stomach and burying his face in his pillow, despair racking his body in silent sobs. "I guess some people might say it's a little bit charming-"

A wail.

"Also, I'm pretty sure her name was _Nora_-"

Another wail, this one even more pained than the last.

Fred shook his head. "Toad, as much as I'd love to help you-"

Suddenly a hand reached out again, dramatically inclined not towards Fred but towards the ceiling just above him. "Leave me, Freddy," Toad moaned, still not picking his head up. "Just- leave me to my misery. It's the only thing left to be done."

"What misery?" suddenly came a new voice from the doorway. "What'd you guys do now?" Toad, his face suddenly lighting up with a sort of feral joy, shot up from his bed to face the newcomer, a large grin on his face.

"Lance! You've come back to me!"

"And..." Lance's face was uncertain- maybe even a little bit frightened. "Why does Toad look like Elvis?"

Toad immediately dropped to the ground again with a whimper. Shaking his head, Fred rose from the bed as well. "Tabby talked him into getting a haircut."

"Ohhhh..." Lance nodded knowingly, everything suddenly seeming a whole lot clearer. "Well." He held up a shiny black bottle that looked like it had to contain something precious, and a smile spread over his face as he clenched his fist protectively around it again. "Guess you won't be needing this shampoo then. More for me!"

"No!" Toad cried as Lance turned on his heel and began to walk away. The boy started to drag himself slowly across the floor, one arm extended towards the heavens as if he were a dying man chasing water. "Lance! Lancey, yo, don't leave me like this! I still need it! _Lance_! What about _Nora_? Lance?"

From the far end of the hall, a shrill shriek could be heard from the bathroom. Fred raised his eyebrows as Pietro's voice suddenly rang out; the speedster sounded mildly traumatized. "What on earth is that- _dead thing _in the bathtub?"

"Oh," laughed Tabby from her room. "That's just the remnants of Toad's hair!"

"Dear lord!"

Fred rolled his eyes, gingerly stepping over his friend as he marched out of his room. "Okay then, Toad. I'll be in my room if you need me."

To think that this morning Fred had actually felt bad about his missing hair. After the chaos he'd witnessed today, he was actually considering not bothering to grow it back at all. After all, he mused, glancing over his shoulder at the wailing Toad- not having to deal with the stress of hair sure seemed to make life a whole lot easier.

**AN: I FINALLY WROTE SOMETHING THAT ACTUALLY FEATURED SOMEONE BESIDES PIETRO. WHAT.**

**Also, Fred and Toad, cause I don't write enough about them, and Tabby because she's my babe and I love her. Also, I live off of the love Lance has for his mullet.**


	23. Drive

"Remind me again how you convinced me to teach you how to drive? Because literally everything about this is screaming 'bad idea'."

From the driver's seat Pietro flashed his best friend an undaunted smirk, slightly loosening his grip on the steering wheel. "Oh, ye of little faith," he muttered, adjusting the mirror so that it was trained solely on his face.

Lance's brow furrowed as the speedster winked at his own reflection, grinning. "This 'ye' actually has a girlfriend. And a job, surprisingly. And a _life_. And he _really _doesn't want to die today." Pietro simply scoffed, smoothly starting up the engine and not seeming to give Lance's words an ounce of thought. The uneasy feeling in Lance's gut doubled, and his frown deepened. "I swear to god, if you crash my jeep I'm cutting off your legs."

"I ain't gonna crash it," shot back Pietro as, to Lance's utmost horror, he seemed to be searching for the button to the radio. "I didn't crash the car _before _the last one."

That was it, Lance thought. He was dead. He was past dead. He was so dead that it wasn't even funny. He was already in the ground and buried. "And why is it that your father- you know, the one who can manipulate metal so that any cars ready to kill you will just fly out of the way- can't teach you anymore?"

Pietro shrugged. "Apparently after the incident with the school bus, Magneto decided that teaching me to drive just wasn't worth the grey hair," Pietro muttered, rolling his eyes as once more he ran his fingers through his own snowy white hair. As his words registered, however, Lance's eyes widened.

"Wait, what fiasco with a school bu-"

"_**Buckle up, Lance**_!" Pietro exclaimed, suddenly stepping on the gas and full-on flooring it out of the driveway. Lance bit down hard on his tongue to smother a scream.

"Pietro," he gasped once he was finally able to speak, bracing himself against the dashboard. "Slow down, you maniac!"

"No way! We're just getting started!"

No way was Lance about to let the speed demon get away with that again- not after he'd just seen his life flash before his eyes, and not while the idiot was driving _his _car. "You're either going to kill the Jeep or kill me, and either way I'll still find a way to kill you- so _**knock it off**_!"

Grudgingly, Pietro gradually drew the car to a semi-normal speed. "A lot of fun you are," he muttered sulkily. "Even Magneto let me have my own way with it."

"The man's a genocidal maniac, if you ran someone over he'd probably think it was funny!"

Pietro decided not to add his input on what had happened when he had done just that, and instead focused his attention on the road- much to poor Lance's relief. For the next few blocks, Pietro managed to keep the accelerating down to an almost-normal level, and with no more near-death experiences Lance was beginning to wonder why Pietro even needed a teacher at all. His driving wasn't _that _bad.

And then came the red light.

"I can't stand this," Pietro groaned, approximately three seconds into waiting for the light to turn green. His knee bounced up and down, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "_Come on_."

"Relax," Lance said, eyeing him with a frown. "It'll turn in a minute."

"Should it be taking so long?" Pietro questioned, squirming uneasily. "I think it's broken." As Lance watched on with mounting dread, the white haired mutant stuck his head out the window, scowling. "Turn, you stupid light!" he hollered, and Lance sunk lower in his seat.

In the car next to them, a man rolled down his window and frowned at Pietro from behind dark sunglasses. "Hey buddy, the thing will change when it's ready!"

"Well," Pietro shot back irritably, his eyes narrowing, "_I'm _ready now!"

"Too bad, you've got to wait!"

"Please sit down," Lance murmured as Pietro seemed ready to jump out of the car. "Please, please, please, please, just sit down..." And just at that moment, the light turned green.

"Wait _this_!" Pietro shouted, and Lance barely had time to gasp before his precious Jeep was suddenly speeding down the street at at least ninety miles per hour. His body lurched forward and he was nearly slammed into the dashboard before the seatbelt- that blessed, blessed seatbelt which he _so _had to make a habit of wearing more often- stopped him short. The speed then inevitably pushed him back against the seat, and he could only stare wide-eyed as the world zipped past at a dizzying speed. It was like running with Pietro- it was worse than running with Pietro, because at least running with Pietro your life wasn't in imminent peril.

"Slow- down!" he gasped, flailing desperately in his seat. Pietro, his hands locked on the steering wheel and his eyes lit with a horrible, gleeful light, gave off no indication that he had heard his passenger.

A car swerved to get around them. People dove out of the way to avoid a speeding projectile of a Jeep. One woman abandoned a baby carriage in the middle of the road, and there wasn't time to avoid it; the vehicle hurtled into the carriage, which burst open to reveal numerous boxes of girl scout cookies, and the Jeep drove on.

Eyes wide with horror, Lance finally managed to choke out what he'd been trying to say the entire time- "Wrong side of the road!"

Frowning, Pietro checked the road behind him and tilted his head. "Oh," he remarked, raising his eyebrows. "Better make a turn, then." And then, before Lance could stop him, the speed maniac who should never have been allowed behind a wheel of a car made a full ninety degree turn onto a suburban street _without slowing down at all._

One minute later a lamppost was buried deep in the front of the Brotherhood Jeep, and a very angry Lance was standing outside the vehicle turning an odd shade of red as he glowered at Pietro. The other boy at least has the decency to look somewhat ashamed, but the thrill of the adventure was still glowing in his eyes.

Lance seemed as a loss for words- he stammered out a few broken syllables numerous times before finally seeming to give up entirely and just pressing a hand to his face. "Never again," he vowed, sounding closer to tears than Pietro had ever heard him. "_Never _again. My _Jeep_..."

**AN: I know I said not so much Pietro anymore- but I promised I'd write this story, and these two idiots were just calling me. Anyway, this is why Tro should never be allowed to drive, like, ever.**

**Also, to the one person who wanted to know- I have a lot of stories in my notebook, and I'm just sort of haphazardly typing them out and writing down new ones as I go. All depends on where the flow of inspiration is at the moment, I guess.**


	24. Alone

"We should have a Disney movie marathon!"

"We ain't having a Disney movie marathon," Toad retorted flatly, crossing his arms. "We ain't even going near the Disney movies. You know Tabby would kill us if we watched them all without her."

"Yeah, I know," Fred sighed, pouting. "I wish she'd stay at least, just so we could watch The Little Mermaid..."

Toad let out a dry laugh, grinning as he leaned back in the armchair. "Yet another reason to be glad they're all gone."

For one week, the sophomores and seniors of Bayville High were all heading up to Williamsburg, Virginia. This group obviously included Lance, Pietro, and Tabitha- but Fred, a junior, and Toad, whose low grades had disqualified him from the trip, were "sadly" going to be left behind. The rest of the Brotherhood had taken off minutes ago; at last, for the first time ever, it was just Toad and Fred with the brotherhood House all to themselves.

"Here's what I was thinkin'," continued Toad, gesturing with his hand for his larger friend to come closer. "We order, like, fifty pizzas with all the weird toppings we can imagine. Prank calls, prank calls to everyone without dumb Lance complaining about phone bills. We can even try _flying_." As Fred considered these options, a wicked grin suddenly spread across Toad's face. "Hey, Freddy," he remarked casually, "the other day in Biology we were reading about something called a Molotov Cocktail. You ever tried making one of those, yo?"

"Uhh... no, Toad." Fred shook his head. "I ain't even heard of one before."

His eyes widening, Toad pushed himself into a sitting position. "Freddy," he announced, "I know what we're gonna do today!"

xXxXxXxXx

"The house." Lance's voice came out a strangled wheeze. "The _house_."

Pietro crossed his arms, his eyes wide as he stared up at the Brotherhood house- the left side of which currently had flames spilling out of the downstairs window. "Well I'll admit that they certainly don't waste time."

Tabitha let out a low whistle. "I'm impressed with their creativity."

"We were gone for _five minutes_!" Lance swiveled on his heel to look at Pietro, his hands tangled in his hair and his face a mask of desperation. They had only returned, after all, because Pietro had forgotten to pack his favorite jacket and simply couldn't leave without it.

Pietro shrugged as all of a sudden Toad plummeted out of an upstairs window, his body inexplicably entangled in a bedsheet. A loud shriek accompanied him on his way down to the ground. "You know, there'll will always be other chances to go to Virginia..."

Lance fell to his knees, his shoulders shaking in silent sobs. Tabby and Pietro exchanged skeptical glances.

"Nope." Pietro turned around, quickly ran over to the car and started it, then gently pulled Lance to his feet. "Come on. Keep moving," he urged as he and Tabitha ushered the other boy away from the carnage behind them. "Just don't look back. If we're lucky they'll end up getting themselves both killed before the week is out. Let's just go now while we still can."

**AN: Yes. They did actually manage to make a homemade Molotov Cocktail. Don't screw with the Brotherhood boys.**

**I don't know, not as satisfied with this one. What do you guys think?**


	25. Feel- AU

**AN: Umm... so just to clarify, I did say there would be AUs in this story, right? Well, this here's one of 'em. This isn't a fun story. Basically I took Pietro, who's already pretty bad, and thought "How could I plausibly make him worse?" And thus this was born. This drabble contains blood, just so you guys know, and major character death. Be prepared.**

"Pietro!" Wanda's voice rang out over everything else; the smoke, the bombs, the screams of the wounded and dying. Pietro spun around immediately to meet her, and he caught her as she dove into his arms.

"I didn't think- I thought-" she murmured into his chest, and he could feel the warmth of her skin, the steady pounding beat of her heart. She was so alive, always so alive, and as usual it only made him feel hollow inside. She turned her chin up to look him in the face, her deep blue eyes warm and bright with tears of relief. "We thought you'd been killed in the first attack."

"Of course not, Wanda," he muttered, still focused on the light filling her eyes and the utter relief written all over her face. "I'm too fast for anyone to kill me, remember?"

She rolled her eyes, inhaling a deep breath. "And too smart," she added dryly.

"For my own good, right?"

Seemingly embarrassed at her blatant display of affection for her younger brother, Wanda's face colored slightly, but the joy remained in her eyes as she took a step back- only to be immediately replaced by shock and confusion as Pietro suddenly stabbed a large, jagged-bladed knife deep into her stomach.

She gasped, her eyes widening as she slowly glanced down at the knife and then looked back at her brother again. "P-Pietro?" she breathed, her voice low and disbelieving.

Pietro smirked, his eyes cold as he gave the knife a sharp twist and then suddenly pulled it out again. Another spurt of blood gurgled out of the wound, and Pietro pulled his arms back as Wanda crumpled to the ground.

"I- I don't-" Her body was shaking; she was trembling like a leaf, like the scared child that used to climb into Pietro's bed whenever she had a nightmare. But that was years ago- it seemed to Pietro like lifetimes separated that little boy whom he used to be from the person he was today. That little boy would never have dreamed of murdering his sister; and if by some twist of fate he did end up doing so, the pain he would have felt would have been unimaginable. Pietro didn't feel. Not anymore. Not even staring down at his sister, bleeding and dying on the pavement at his hands.

"Sorry sis," he shrugged, crouching down next to her. A tiny stream of blood was slowly trickling out of her mouth; as her hand twitched slightly, he took it in his own. It was still warm; a warmth he knew would last only a few minutes more. "But you were getting too dangerous to keep around. With your powers and everything you know- now that you and the rest of the Brotherhood are working with the X-Men, something just had to be done."

Wanda's eyes were leaking now; tears dripped down her dirt-stained face, leaving little tracks on her skin. "You…?"

"Sorry," he repeated again, tilting his head. "I guess you should have known better than to trust me. Even I don't trust me. But one thing I know for sure?" He pulled out his knife again, brandishing it in front of his sister's face. "I always win in the end."

He never lost. For so long he'd spent life as a loser; a loser as a child, a loser growing up. And he'd always know, deep down, that it all traced back to his ability to feel- happiness and fear and pain, all of which only succeeded in making him weak. It had taken him so long, so many years of isolation and convincing himself that he didn't care, but he'd finally done it. Finally, at last, Pietro didn't feel anything anymore. He was free.

"But hey," he muttered, still smirking at her as he raised the knife to her neck. "I'm still your brother, right? So I'll make this quick." In one clean, swift cut he sliced his sister's throat open. There was a brief moment where he watched as his sister's body trembled against the pavement, Wanda choking on her own blood and her eyes rapidly slipping open and shut- and then, finally, stillness.

"I really am sorry, Wanda," he muttered as he rose to his feet again, dropping his blade to the ground next to her. It made a satisfying clatter against stone, and he didn't look back as he walked away. Maybe he was sorry, somewhere, deep in his heart- but if he was, it was in a part that had long since been numbed. After all, Pietro was free now. He didn't have to feel anything- and he didn't want to.


	26. Oranges

As a speedster, with a mind wired to process things at ten times the rate of normal humans, making him capable of taking in things so fast that any other person probably wouldn't be able to see them at all, Pietro wasn't known for missing much. But even he wasn't on his guard for projectiles falling from the sky. That's why, when he took three steps out into the backyard, only to be nailed from above by a falling _orange_, he was taken aback- to say the least.

His face twisted in disgust as he swiped a bit of exploded orange off of his shoulder. "You idiots!" he hollered up at the house, where he just managed to catch sight of a snickering Fred and Toad vanishing from an upstairs window. "I'll get you for this! You ruined my _hair_..." His voice faded down to a whine as he miserably prodded at a bit of his once-slicked back white hair, now soaked in orange juice.

"What are you crying about now?" inquired Wanda, stepping out into the backyard to investigate. Not that she was particularly unaccustomed to hearing her weirdo twin brother start to scream about nothing in particular; but on this occasion, something had apparently piqued her interest. Pietro realized what was coming a split second before it happened; his eyes widened.

"Uh, Wanda, I wouldn't come out h-"

_SPLAT_.

"Huh," Pietro finished flatly. "Umm..." Immediately he began to scamper back, desperately seeking unseen safety behind him as Wanda's face steadily began to turn an odd shade of red. "Too late?"

"I'll _murder _them!" Wanda suddenly shrieked, her hands beginning to glow an ominous blue as her brother raced for refuge behind a tree. "Either of you idiots ever been flayed alive?" she screamed up at the house. "Cause I can make it happen today! My _hair_..." Her voice faded down to a whine as she plucked a tiny piece of orange out of her dark hair, wincing.

As Pietro watched with widened eyes, the Scarlet Witch suddenly rounded on her brother again, her anger returned full force. "And _you_!"

"Me what?" exclaimed Pietro indignantly. "I tried to warn you, didn't I? If you had listened, or better yet if those two hadn't dropped citrus on our heads, then there wouldn't be a problem, would there?"

Wanda was still scowling, but at least her rage was no longer being directed at her brother. "I want them dead," she stated flatly, her voice a low growl.

"So do I," Pietro replied, and Wanda could practically see the gears in her brother's head turning. "And I've got an idea..."

xXxXxXx

Fred and Todd were so occupied with standing at the upstairs window and snickering as they watched orange-covered Wanda pace around the backyard raging to herself that they didn't even realize they weren't alone until they felt a cool breeze pass behind them and were suddenly joined at the window by another figure.

"Nice prank, you guys." Pietro's hand was on Todd's back. He froze. "Shame it had to come back and bite you!" The next second Toad let out a surprised shriek as Pietro suddenly flung him bodily out of the open window. Alarmed, Fred lurched forward to catch him, but this only gave Pietro the opportunity to slam into the large mutant's back and knock him out as well. Now alone at the window and smirking, Pietro glanced down at the nearly full bucket of oranges sitting under the windowsill before sticking his head outside.

Wanda stood in the middle of the backyard, her arms raised high, wearing a smirk that mirrored her brother's as she suspended Fred and Toad high in the air. With a nod to his sister, Pietro took his cue and began to rapidly pelt the two troublemakers with their own oranges.

"Hey!" squealed Toad as a fruit hit him square in the jaw. "Do I look like a salad to you? Cut it out, yo!"

"Gladly," Wanda muttered as the barrage of citrus finally ceased, and with a flick of her wrist she sent both distressed mutant flying over the trees, past the neighbor's house, and out of sight.

"Revenge is sweet," she laughed brightly, grinning up at her brother before reaching up and tossing his a relatively undented round fruit which he caught easily. "Want an orange?"

**AN: Because everyone requested it, and after that last one I needed to write something that involved Maximoff sibling bonding without any angst. It **_**is **_**possible, guys!**

**Next up: Toad asks an awkward question.**


	27. Fever

In retrospect, it was sort of his fault. He knew that he wasn't feeling one hundred percent; when he woke up early that morning, his throat was burning and his head spun so much that it took him a moment to find his feet. But he had insisted to himself that he would be fine, that his metabolism would be able to fight it off. Pietro just didn't get sick as a rule; when he did it was always pretty bad, but as a rule he was able to fight anything off pretty well. So instead of mentioning it to anyone, that morning he put on a poker face and set out determined to push through the day at school.

He should have known better.

By third period he could barely stay on his feet, and his stomach was churning ominously. His head felt like a jackhammer was pounding from the inside of his skull, desperately trying to force its way out. Numerous people had even tried to stop him in the hall and ask if he was alright; he had brushed them off. As he sunk into his usual seat for English, the mundane chattering of his fellow classmates around him sounded like a swarm of hornets buzzing in his ears. He slumped lower over the desk, glaring at the tanned wood in front of him.

Pietro gritted his teeth. He had really done it now- the speedster was in trouble and he knew it. He was teetering on the edge of a chasm; one push, even a slight little nudge could send him falling over.

"Alright, class," trilled the sharp voice of the English teacher, and there was the push; Pietro bolted from the classroom so quickly that no one even noticed he had left, or even been there at all.

He would have run farther- away from the school, of course, was ideal- but his legs gave out just on the far side of Bayville high, next to the cafeteria, and he found himself falling to his hands and knees on the hard concrete with his stomach already rebelling against him. He grit his teeth and pressed his lips tightly shut, desperate not to make a noise that could indicate his location; but, of course, that was a futile effort. He gagged once, bent his head, and then it was all over.

Once the contents of his stomach had finally been expelled, Pietro wanted nothing more than to move away; but his limbs felt like Jell-O and his head was protesting so much that he couldn't even keep his eyes open, the light only amplifying the pain. So instead the mutant boy sat there, shivering, miserable and alone.

He didn't know how long he stayed there; the only thing that forced him to move at all was the distant sound of humming that he picked up on right as someone, clearly someone who _ought _to be in class, rounded the corner only to be faced with the white-haired mutant's plight. Miserable but also _angry _that someone would dare interrupt him in a moment of weakness like this, Pietro forced a glare as he raised his head- only for his face to fall with exhaustion and the slightest hint of relief when he saw who was in front of him.

"Lance?"

"Pietro?" The rocktumbler blinked in surprise as he stared at the scene before him- a pool of vomit and his trembling teammate lying a few feet away. Carefully sidestepping the mess, he walked over and placed a hand on Pietro's head, the only easily accessible part of his body. "What are you- you're burning up!"

"Yeah- just threw up," Pietro muttered, his throat protesting at the use of his voice. He didn't care. Lance was here, and Pietro was relieved. He wasn't alone anymore; maybe things would even be alright. "Might be sick."

"_'Might_.' Are you serious?"

"Shut up," he rasped, squeezing his eyes shut again. He felt awful, and weak, and... small. It was a horrible feeling, and at that moment he suddenly wanted nothing more than to return to his own room, his sanctuary, where there was no one around to see how pathetic he was. "Wanna... go home. Please?"

"Totally." He couldn't see it, but he knew that Lance was nodding his head. "Let's go right now. You have your phone on you?"

"Yeah." Without even having to look, Pietro reached into his back pocket and handed the other boy his cell phone. "What're you doing?" He could hear Lance's fingers fly over the keys.

"Texting Tabby. Those three can walk today. I'm taking you home right now."

Home. Home, where it was safe. Home, where he didn't have to pretend everything was okay. Home, where he could really be alone. Pietro felt a wave of relief wash over him at Lance's words- relief mixed with something else. "Great. I just- urgh." Without warning a sudden surge of nausea rose up within him and he was again expelling his dinner from last night onto the concrete. When he was finally done, he was trembling. He could feel his arms beginning to give out, and was very nearly ready to collapse right when he was- probably would have, too, had Lance not managed to catch him in time.

"Okay- it's okay," said the geokinetic in a slightly uncertain tone as he took hold of Pietro's thin, shaking shoulders. "Geez, you're warm all over. You're never this warm." When Pietro looked up at him, he could see that the other boy's face was creased with concern- concern for him. For some reason, that struck Pietro more than anything else, and stuck in his mind as Lance slowly and unsuccessfully attempted to help him to his feet.

"'S not working," Pietro murmured, his eyelids drooping slightly. His head was spinning so much that he felt like he'd just stepped off of the Tilt-A-Whirl. God, he'd always hated that ride. "Can't stand up." he swallowed thickly. "Sorry."

For a moment, Lance was silent, and Pietro was almost certain that he'd gone- that he'd given up and just left him there. Maybe it was for the best. But then, without warning-

Pietro let out a small squeak as he was suddenly scooped right up into Lance's arms. "How light are you?" Lance exclaimed, evidentially just as stunned as Pietro was by the ease with which he could lift his friend. "You've gotta weigh, what, ninety pounds?"

_Less after today_, Pietro thought dryly. "Put me down, idiot!"

"And what, leave you lying there all day? As if." One of Lance's hands smoothed silky hair out of Pietro's damp face- he was sweating like it was the summertime, and he hadn't even realized it until now. Maybe he did have a fever. "Come on, let's get you home. But I swear man, if you puke in my car-"

"Shuddup, Alvers." Pietro decided that at this point the only logical thing to do was give up; sighing slightly, he ceased what little fight he had been putting up, and allowed his head to rest against Lance's chest, suddenly feeling consumed by exhaustion. "Right now, I just... wanna go..."

His words trailed off, and when he glanced down at the feverish boy Lance realized with surprise that Pietro had actually fallen asleep. He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Home," he finished softly, finally reaching the car and gently settling Pietro in the backseat. "Let's go home, Tro."

xXxXxXx

"Yo, what the heck happened today?" The front door slammed shut with a bang as the other three members of the Brotherhood marched into the house. "Whatever happened to havin' a guy's back? We just had to _walk _all the way home!"

"Shut up!" Lance stormed out of the kitchen, the large steak knife in his hand causing Toad to take a large step back. "We had to get home cause Pietro's sick, idiots. He's got some sort of fever, and was throwing up earlier. He fell asleep this morning and has hardly woken up except to ask for water."

Toad bit his lip; Tabitha crossed her arms, wrinkling her nose; Fred frowned, peering around Lance into the kitchen. "What're you making?"

"Chicken soup," the rock tumbler supplied. "For Pietro."

"You... do realize that putting the contents of the can into a bowl and stirring it doesn't qualify as soup, right?" _Toad _looked a bit grossed out at the sight in the kitchen. "And- how much soup did you use, yo?"

"Five cans," Lance shrugged. All eyes turned to him incredulously. "What? There wasn't enough broth."

"You're supposed to add water... and heat it..." Fred pressed a hand to his forehead, sounding close to tears. "Take a step back. I'll take it from here." He pushed Lance aside as he moved into the kitchen; Lance, for once, didn't protest but instead let him. "Go check on Pietro."

"I'll go with you," Tabby volunteered, but Lance shook his head.

"I don't want you getting sick either. What ever he has, if I'm gonna get it then I've already got it. It's better if I just go up."

The rest of the teenagers watched with solemn eyes as their unofficial leader ascended the stairs, silent except for the creak of his footsteps on the old wood until he reached the top and vanished from view.

When Lance entered the speedster's room it was dark, the only light coming from the hallway. Still, he didn't think he had disturbed the sleeping boy any; he was still lying there in his blankets and pillows, his skin pale and slick with sweat and his face blank... almost peaceful. Just as he was about to close the door, however, a small voice made it clear that he had been incorrect in his assumption that Pietro was asleep. "L-Lance?"

The door swung open again. "Hey. You're awake.

"Feel like death."

"Death with a 103 fever." Lance let out a slight snort, but his face softened at the way Pietro winced at the noise. His friend looked miserable; and young, younger than Lance could ever remember him looking. He looked almost like a child, and it stirred something in Lance, an empathy that he hadn't known he even possessed. "Just rest, okay? Everything's going to be okay, you've just got a bug or something." He took a few steps further into the room, but Pietro's slightly raised hand stopped him.

"Don't come close," he rasped, his voice weak. "You might get sick too."

"I carried you back, dude. It's probably too late for me." Lance raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "Don't decide to be selfless now, of all times."

"I can be selfless. I'm..." Pietro trailed off, his frown deepening and turning into more of a wince than anything else. "My head hurts, Lance."

"I know." Lance laid his hand on Pietro's forehead again. It was still burning hot; the younger boy's eyes were dilated and unfocused. "It's okay," he repeated again, despite the little murmur of uncertainty that he felt in his chest.

"Is Wanda- she sick too?" Pietro's eyes were wide, his voice raspy and soft but full of concern. "We always get sick together."

A flicker of confusion passed over Lance's face; who on earth was Wanda? What was Pietro talking about? "Umm... no," he said with a shake of his head, thinking quickly. "Wanda, Wanda's fine. She's waiting for you to get better. We all are. Just rest."

"Okay," Pietro thankfully conceded with a short nod, his head falling back against the pillows again. "Tired, anyway." His eyes seemed ready to slip shut; Lance took that as his cue to back out of the room. However, before he could escape the speedster's voice stopped him once more. "Hey, Lance?"

Lance turned around slowly, his face shadowed by the light of the hallway. In the dark, he could just barely make out Pietro struggling to keep his eyes open. "Yeah?"

"Thanks," Pietro murmured, his voice nearly inaudible, before his eyes finally fell closed for good and his body relaxed, a sure sign that sleep had taken him again. Lance felt his face soften; Pietro Maximoff hardly ever said "thank you" to anyone, and especially not to Lance.

"No problem, Pietro," he muttered quietly, sliding the door shut again, a small smile playing on his face as the memory of his friend's words still rang fresh in his head. "Just feel better."

**AN: Think this is one of my favorites so far. Pietro is a character who bases himself so much off of his own control, and the way other people see him; I thought it would be interesting if we took any semblance of control he had away.**

**I wanted to post the Toad one today but frankly I'm in the same state as Pietro at the moment; tomorrow.**


	28. Question

"Yo, Lance!" called Toad, dull thuds sounding throughout the otherwise empty house as he hopped up the staircase. Mildly curious but mostly not having anything else to do, Lance paused his music, pulled away his earbuds, and stuck his head out the door. The wide eyed, cheerful look on the younger boy's face made him nothing but suspicious.

"Uhh, yeah?" Toad grinned at him, a slight scratch of his neck the only outward sign that what he was about to say made him slightly nervous.

"So, just outta curiosity- I ain't, like, plotting your death or nothin' like that... if you were gonna die, let's say maybe... _today_... would you rather it be from drowning or burning to death?"

Lance stared back at him, his face blank. "Like, in a fire," Toad clarified. His expression reflected nothing but total innocence.

Slowly Lance's head retracted back into his room and the door slammed shut behind him- directly in Toad's face. "I've got no desire," Lance spoke through the sealed doorway, his voice flat, "to ever give you an answer to that question."

Toad stared belatedly at the closed door. "So," he said in reply, trying to keep him voice slightly nonchalant. "Is that an 'undetermined'?"

xXxXxXx

"Hey Speedy!" Toad leaped into the living room, his face lighting up when he caught sight of the white haired Quicksilver sitting on the couch, flipping through television channels at a mind-numbing rate. "Quick question."

Pietro raised an eyebrow. Toad laughed nervously.

"Just outta curiosity- meanin' I ain't plotting you death or nothin', I swear, so don't think that's what I'm trying-"

"Toad." Pietro's interest was mildly peaked; enough, at least, to bother hearing the rest of the sentence. "Spit it out."

"Okay..." Toad grinned anxiously, not eager to generate another reaction like the one he'd received from Lance earlier. "Let's say you were gonna die- which you are, just like, not at this time or anything, but say you were dying maybe right now-" He took a deep breath. "How would you rather it happen- drowning or burning to death?"

The speedster blinked. "Like... in a fire."

"I guessed that."

"Yeah... okay."

Pietro studied him for a few moments, his cool blue eyes seeming to bore straight through Toad as the younger boy shifted uncomfortably. Finally Pietro sighed, and replied in a voice that suggested only the slightest degree of hesitation, "Burning to death. No question."

"Ditto," agreed his sister promptly, walking into the room. "What was the question?"

Toad broke into a wide grin, and with a short spasm of his legs he'd launched into a full backflip across the room. "Aww yeah!" he exclaimed gleefully. "Finally got an actual answer! Burnin' to death!" He hooted again, somersaulting past the window. "Aww yeah!"

Pietro blinked after him as the mutant boy bounced out of the room, whooping all the way. Then his gaze turned up to his sister. "You have to wonder just how many people he's asked that question."

Wanda shrugged, waving a hand in dismissal. "Doesn't really matter," she replied. "I'll kill him before he kills me."

**AN: So... have I just been horrible with the updates or what? I am sorry. Genuinely. Remember how I mentioned last chapter that I wasn't feeling too good? Yeah, still got that. I've sort of been in a feverish haze all week- still am, actually- and I haven't been in school. I also haven't got around to writing. But here, my lovelies, is the promised Toad chapter. I told you I'd deliver, and I did... eventually.**


	29. Rage

It was a dark and stormy... Friday morning. Dark and stormy Friday mornings are the absolute best type of Friday mornings, especially dark and stormy Friday mornings in the middle of the summer, when there are absolutely no obligations and it is perfectly socially acceptable to sleep through the entirety of said dark and stormy Friday morning if that is what one desires. And- quite unsurprisingly, given the fact that they were all a group of lazy, unmotivated teenage mutants with zero responsibilities- this was exactly what almost every member of the Brotherhood house was attempting to do.

And it was working out pretty well, too. That is, until...

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-"

An inhuman screech of rage shattered the air, sending all three slumbering members of the Brotherhood bolting into their resident speedsters bedroom. Still half asleep, Toad's mind in particular was racing. What was it- burglars? Ninjas? Burglar ninjas? That would actually be pretty cool- would they let him join their dark legion of chaos? But when the remaining Brotherhood members finally arrived at the destination of catastrophe, they were only disappointed. Nowhere were there ninjas, axe murderers, or angry blue shape shifters. It was a scene of chaos alright- but not one they had been expecting.

All around Pietro's room, clothes were scattered- torn, filthy clothes that were covered in mud, a strange form of purple goo, and what looked suspiciously like blood. Some clothing even looked like it had been stabbed with knives or hacked apart with scissors.

And in the middle of it was Pietro- on his knees, cradling one of his decimated Quicksilver uniforms as if it were a dying child. "My _clothes_!" he exclaimed, seemingly unaware of the rest of his team's presence as he let out another utterly broken wail.

For a moment there was silence; none of the Brotherhood members could really make sense of what they were seeing. In particular, no one could quite comprehend the fact that it hadn't been _them _responsible for this particular caper. At last, Lance seemed to find his voice- his very irritated voice. "It is _six _o'clock in the freaking morning!"

Pietro went still as a statue, and collectively all three onlookers stomach's dropped.

Then his head shot up, and Toad could swear that for a split second Pietro's eyes were pure black. That was just before Quicksilver charged at them with an inhuman howl of rage, running circles around the three delinquents so fast and with such ferocity that they were all pushed together in a terrified little clump. When he finally found the composure to pull to a stop in front of them, his face was red. "Okay, who did it? _Who- did- it?" _He took a step forward- collectively, his team shrunk back. An irate Pietro was not an entity to be trifled with.

"I will _crush _you like the utter scum that you are! I will kill you! I will cut out your tongue and beat you to death with it! I will inject you with a heavy paralytic just strong enough that you will be mostly conscious, cut your chest cavity open, stop the bleeding with a coagulant and then sic a pack of wild dogs on you in order to listen to your dying screams! I will end your pathetic, meaningless lives! _Who- the_-" At this, Fred suddenly clamped his hands over Toad's ears; for a moment, the only sound Toad could hear was the faint sound of the ocean. And then- "_did- it_?"

Everyone was daunted, even the bravest among them; still, Lance somehow found the courage to put on an unimpressed face. "Drama queen, I swear to-"

"Shut your puny, pathetic little mouth!" Pietro was suddenly nose-to-nose with Lance, his body actually trembling with rage; Lance's eyes widened. "Unless I am hearing a confession, I do not want to hear a single mother-" There was that ocean sound again. Indignantly, Toad batted Fred's hands away. "-word out of your worthless mouths! Now, own up. _Who did it_?"

No one spoke. Pietro's eyes wandered from one suspect to another. "Who?"

"Uhh... Pietro..." It took a moment for Fred to finally find the courage to speak where no one else seemed willing. "I don't think anyone here had anything to do with this."

"Since when do you _think_?" Pietro spat caustically, narrowing his eyes. "One of you did this and someone will pay, and I will personally strap each and every one of you into the torture devices myself! You don't know where I grew up- I _can _make it happen!"

"Hey, chill man, it wasn't us!" exclaimed Lance, his eyes narrowing as Pietro suddenly swept over and grabbed the front of his shirt. "Do you really wanna touch me? Because trust me Twinkle Toes, I can pummel you with my eyes shut! I didn't do a thing to your stupid clothes!"

"Uhh..." Toad was more interested in exactly why Pietro had a small French maid's outfit in his closet, now lying among the wreckage. But when the speedster immediately wound up inches from his face, his eyebrows raised expectantly, Toad shrunk back. "Heh-heh... nothin'."

"You got something to _say_, Frog-boy?" All of a sudden, Pietro's hand was on Toad's throat. The younger boy gulped, yellow eyes wide.

"Umm, bad touch, bad touch, need an adult, quickly-"

As Pietro resumed his frantic pacing and ranting, this time more to himself than to any of the Brotherhood members, it became increasingly clear that he was growing unhinged. Something needed to be done. In what he hoped was a discreet manner, Lance leaned over to whisper to Fred. "We could get the rope."

The big boy shook his head, his black eyes fixed on Pietro anxiously. "We used the rope on Toad last time, remember?"

"Darn. Duct tape?" 

"Last weekend. During one of _your _rages."

"Oh, right." Lance wasn't about to admit that he had next to no memory of what had occurred last weekend; all that remained was a haze of red and the vague memory of death threats and broken glass. "Umm... horse tranquilizers?"

"I think we used all those too."

Lance bit his lip, frowning slightly before he remembered to location of the rest of the tranquilizers. "No, no, I have a spare in the bathroom."

"I'm on it, yo," muttered Toad, who had been listening in on the conversation. Frankly, the youngest Brotherhood member was just happy to get away from Pietro's rage; the psycho was scary when he wanted to be. As Toad hopped away, the other two mutants were now left to deal with the raging Quicksilver.

It was Lance who, for some deranged reason, was bold enough to step forward. "Pietro, calm down you maniac!"

"Calm down?" Pietro halted his pacing suddenly, turning on his heel and rounding on Lance with rage burning in his eyes. "I will not freaking calm down! Look around you, Lance! Just look! Do you know how long it took me to obtain all these clothes?"

"Umm... three months?" The geopath raised an eyebrow. "You literally arrived here with nothing..."

"That is besides the _point_, Avalanche. My clothes!" Pietro threw his arms out despairingly. "My entire wardrobe!"

"Well, you did kind of have it coming," pointed out Fred. "You did the same thing to Summers last week-"

"Summers!" Pietro's eyes lit up with a wicked light. "That's it! It had to be him! He probably got the other X-Men in on it too! Daniels probably tried on all my clothes_" He made a small whimpering noise- "and then impaled them; Pryde made the goop; Grey probably _invaded my mind_ and kept me asleep while those fiends tromped through my room..." He tugged on his hair, throwing his head back in agony. "Oh _god_!"

"Uhh... Pietro?" This was a whole new level of nuts, thought Lance- even for Pietro. "Are you-"

"I will have _vengeance_!" Suddenly Pietro lunged forward aimlessly, and Lance barely had time to catch him before he slammed himself right into the wall.

"Knock it off!" he exclaimed as Pietro squirmed and thrashed like a madman, literally flinging himself around almost like a fish before he finally managed to escape Lance's deadlock grip only to commence running around the room, nearly frothing at the mouth. This was it, thought Lance, watching on incredulously. The guy had finally gone rabid.

"Toad, how long does it take you to find a tranquilizer?" hollered Lance, springing on top of the speedster and physically restraining him as he tried to book it out the second story window, snarling. "Hurry it up!"

"I'll hurry it up," snarled Pietro, his fingernails digging deep into the skin of Lance's arm. "Straight to Summers's grave!" This declaration was followed by another round of maniacal laughter, and Lance winced once more in pain; his arms were now actually bleeding, and he had no choice but to release Quicksilver again.

"Geez man, do you sharpen those nails?!"

"Yes," replied Fred flatly from his position in front of the door, where Pietro's numerous attempts to ram his body into the Immovable Blob at full speed only seemed to be testing Fred's patience.

"I AM THE MIGHTY QUICKSILVER, AND I CANNOT BE STOPPED. I WILL NEVER BE SUBDUED! I WILL ANNIHILATE- _urghh_." With that, the Mighty Quicksilver collapsed backwards into Fred's arms in a most undignified manner, his eyes rolling back into his head as he fell unconscious. Evidently satisfied, Fred dropped the empty tranquilizer to the ground and gently set the unresponsive speedster on his bed.

"Is... he good now?" asked Toad tentatively, peering at the boy.

"Yeah," nodded Lance. "Only thing is, Sleeping Beauty might not remember much of this encounter when he gets back to the land of the living."

"So what are we gonna do about his clothes?"

"We'll get the X-Geeks back," Avalanche replied with an easy shrug. "We always do. As for me-" Without even another glance back at the slumbering Pietro, he turned on his heel and stomped out of the room. "I'm headed back to bed."

"Yeah," agreed Fred. "Me too."

"Sorry, Quickie," Toad shrugged, hopping after his large friend. "We'll deal with this later on in the morning- shouldn't take you too long to replace all them clothes anyhow."

From the bed, Pietro let out a soft snore. In Toad's mind, the noise sounded distinctly _angry_; but then again, he couldn't be certain.

One thing was for sure; he was never touching Pietro's clothes as long as the speedster was still alive to reap vengeance for it.

**AN: And they say Wanda is the scary one...**


	30. Bunkbeds

**AN: So this is what happens when, at the beginning of the Brotherhood, Mystique tries to save money and force some (not Freddy, obviously) of the boys to use bunk beds. It doesn't end well.**

**This story is heavily based off of this one video on Tumblr that I found absolutely hilarious, and while watching it I couldn't help but think, "This is Pietro and Lance. This is **_**so **_**Pietro and Lance." And thus this was born.**

The break of dawn. Small towns are still asleep; cities barely stirring at the start of the day. It is no time of the day for any normal, sane human being to be awake; in Lance Alvers's opinion, it was not a "time of day" at all. Nope, the break of dawn didn't exist. Actually, nothing existed in the world until eight in the morning at _least_; so that was why at this time in the morning it was absolutely _horrifying _to hear a voice shatter the utter stillness of the slowly lightening sky.

"Hey Lance? Lance?"

"What?" Lance's half-asleep voice was incredulous- agonized, even.

"Do you ever, like..." Pietro's drawling voice didn't even _sound _tired. How, Lance's exhausted, addled mind mused, could he not sound tired this early in the morning? What was wrong with him? "...love Mystique? Huh? Do you?"

Lance rolled over onto his stomach, burying his face in his pillow. It was too early for this. "Do I _whaaa_? Dude."

"Do you ever love Mystique?" repeated Pietro, sounding genuinely curious.

"Please, just-" Lance couldn't believe this was happening. But what about _sleep_? "Just let me sleep, it's six o'clock, lemme go to sleep. Sleep. For just... five... more... hours..."

"Do you ever really wonder, like... does Mystique love us?"

"No. What?" Was the boy insane? Oh, wait. This was Pietro they were talking about. Did Lance even have to ask that question?

"Maybe she's a bird. I'll bet she's a bird and staring in at us from the window right now. She's probably been watching us this whole time." Now Pietro was just rambling, and Lance could feel his anger boiling over. He was doing this to annoy him. He had to be. He wanted to drive Lance insane and keep him from sleeping until he went off on a chainsaw massacre, just so Pietro would get to be a big hero and disarm the deranged rocktumbler after he'd already wiped out half the town. That was his big plan, it had to be, there could be no other... oh god. Lance really _was _tired.

"Wait. Does that mean Mystique was watching me get dressed? Cause I'm not sure I'm down with that..." Lance pressed a pillow over his head, balling his hands into fists in the soft white down. But Pietro was never one to give up easily. "Heya Lance?" he prodded. "Lance? Hey Lance?"

"SHUT THE HELL UP, MAXIMOFF!" Lance pushed himself up on all fours, glaring daggers into the bunk bed above him. Had they been literal daggers, Lance still would have had absolutely no regrets.

"God, Mister Grouchypants!" Pietro stuck his head over the side of the bed, rolling his eyes dramatically. "It's not like it's four in the morning or any-"

"I swear to god." Flopping back facedown on the bed again, Lance mused over the legal and moral repercussions of murder.

There was a long moment of silence; Lance could hardly believe it. Pietro had, it seemed, actually given up. Lance in his victory could still feel himself drifting off to sleep once more...

"Do you think toads have feelings?"

"Dude, I'm gonna give you one last chance to shut your mouth-" Lance was so close to coming up there and punching him in the face that it wasn't even funny. He had been so _close_...

"Okay. Okay, I'll be quiet now." Pietro almost sounded serious. "Shhh..."

"Yesss..." Lance could feel himself falling back into the darkness of sleep even now; it was a struggle to keep his mind on the conversation, especially with Pietro's voice finally lowered to a soft whisper. "Shhhhhhh..."

He could feel the sweet tendrils of darkness wrapping themselves around him once more, dragging him back down, down, to a sleep that he never should have been awoken from, and Lance felt relief-

"_Hey Lance_?"

He was so freaking _loud_.

And he was even louder, Lance found with satisfaction, when he shot out of bed and up that rickety little ladder before the speedster could even react, and began brutally beating Pietro with his own pillow.

"Ow!" The speedster shrieked, writing under Lance's blows. "Ow, ow, ow!"

"Wanna fight? Wanna fight?" Lance snarled, giving Pietro one last good hit to the head before dropping back to his bunk and rolling on his side to face the wall. If Quickie wanted a war, Lance would give him one.

Predictably, it wasn't long before Pietro's voice could be heard again. "Wow, jerk! That was rude!" Lance simply pressed his pillow even tighter over his own head; maybe if he was lucky he would manage to smother himself into unconsciousness.

But he couldn't even do that in peace; because now Pietro was freaking yodeling. Or at least that's what it sounded like to Lance. "I whip my hair back and forth, I whip my hair back and forth... whip it real good..."

The idiot hardly had any hair to whip. _Why _did he hate Lance? Why?

"They call me 'Quicksilver', they call me 'Peter', they call me _'Speedy'_, they call me _'Draco'_! That's not my name! That's not my name! That's not my name! That's not my name!"

"Quiet. Quiet. Stoppit, right now."

"Okay. Okay. Quiet. I'm gonna be quiet now." Pietro cleared his throat. "Ah, sorry. Okay, now. I mean it. Now. I'm gonna shut up right- right after- _that's not my name! _- okay, right now. Right."

Right. Quiet. But as a few minutes passed and it actually seemed like Pietro was sticking to his word, Lance slowly found himself relaxing again. It so wasn't too late to go back to sleep- it was _never _too late to get back to sleep, be it midnight or noon, that was his motto-

"It's Friday, Friday, gotta get down on Friday-"

"Shut the hell up!" Lance was going to cry. He was actually going to start crying, right then and there, and Pietro was never going to let him live it down.

"The music is in my soul, Lance!" exclaimed the white haired maniac, and Lance could hear him flopping about dramatically up on his bunk. "There's no containing what I'm bringing to the table!"

"It's _Tuesday_, bitch!" Lance snapped, feeling seconds away from snapping something _else_- namely, Pietro's scrawny neck.

"Okay, okay, you're right." Finally, as his snickers died down, Pietro actually sounded serious. "Sleep now..."

Thank god. Lance practically groaned as his head hit the pillow once again, and immediately he felt himself almost melt into the soft down.

"Everybody's looking forward to- ow!" Lance's hand shot up towards the top bunk, and he felt the woosh of a head being swiftly retracted before the irate and drowsy geokinetic could grab a hold of it's hair. Lance had never hated Pietro's superspeed more.

"You're the worst friend ever," Lance deadpanned.

Pietro didn't contest this. Instead he waited for a few seconds, before his overly grating voice broke the quiet of the room again "Do you wanna go for a run right-"

"If you don't stop talking, I will kill you. Literally, I will rip your freaking throat out and mail it to Daniels as a Christmas gift, just shut the hell up."

If Lance had thought that this would deter Pietro, he was wrong. Dead wrong. In retrospect, he should have figured this out much earlier, but no one's giving him any credit for his intelligence in this situation- because if he had been truly smart (or fully conscious) he would have just tossed Pietro out the window and been done with it.

"I believe I can fly!"

"Please stop..."

"I'm Quicksilver, I can touch the sky! I dream about it every night and day! Spread my wings and fly away!"

"DAMMIT!" Lance's feet pounded roughly against the bottom of the bunk above him, the mattress creaking and cracking with every violent blow. Above him, he could hear Pietro's soft "oof"s any time Lance's foot made connection with his spine. Lance kept aiming for where he could hear the "oof"s. Hopefully he would manage to crack something important, and he wasn't talking about the bed.

"An Avalanche struck Bayville this afternoon, at around six thirty in the morning... multiple casualties have been reported..."

He could frame Summers. He could kill Pietro and then burn him alive and it would be all to easy to blame it on Summers. Maybe he could even get the guy tossed in prison, that would be nice, kill two birds with one stone...

"It took too long, it took too long, it took too long for you to call me back. And normally I would just forget that except for the fact it was my birthday. My stupid birthday..."

"Please stop, please..." Lance was actually close to tears now, and it showed in his voice. "Mom..."

"This is the potential break-up song, our album just needs one..." Pietro trailed off, and Lance tentatively lifted his head from under the pillow to glare up at the upper bunk. "Lance?"

"Screw you. What?"

"Are you gonna tell your _mommy _on me?" Pietro cooed, and that was the final straw. Lance had had enough. No one talked about his mother, especially not idiotic, emotionally immature speed demons who quenched their boredom by torturing people at six in the morning.

"Son of a- DIE, SPEED-BOY!" Lance lunged up, nearly managing to grab Pietro's neck before the other boy pulled back. But this time Lance didn't give up; he pushed himself out of bed as Pietro continued to prattle.

"Your aim is terrible. Hey, does this mean we can go get ice cream? I love ice cream. Since Mystique's gone, can we have ice cream every single day? Forever? That would be so, so awesome. I can't wait, I'm gonna get sprinkles... and caramel, and hot fudge- and-"

His eyes rolling back into his head, Lance could feel the entire house begin to tremble beneath his feet. Pietro's words cut off in a sharp yelp as he immediately seized hold of the headboard to try and keep from dying. It didn't help, however- the bunkbeds toppled over right on top of him, and only _then _did Lance stop.

"Owww," Pietro muttered from the floor. "_Laaance_."

"No. More. Bunkbeds." The geokinetic ground out before slamming his bedroom door behind him and promptly curling up in the hallway to finish his morning sleep. He wasn't about to be conned out of that, even in the face of the inevitable screaming blue shapeshifter. If anyone was mad, they could always blame Pietro- that is, assuming he was still alive by the time they got in there.

At least he wouldn't have to sleep in a bunkbed anymore.


	31. Daddy

"Umm... Father?" The voice on the other end of the phone was confused; trepidatious, even. That's not to say Magneto could blame him; it wasn't every day, after all, that Pietro got an unexpected phone call from his father.

"Yes, Pietro," replied Magneto in the same eerily calm, flat tone he always liked to employ when speaking to his son. It was only after he'd already spoken that he realized he'd managed to mangle the pronunciation of his son's name spectacularly. Opps. Inwardly he found himself cursing for not giving his son a simpler, more easy-to-remember name like Doug or John; eh, maybe the kid hadn't even noticed. He continued smoothly: "I have needed to speak to the both of you for some time."

"It's great to hear from you, Father," Wanda greeted, her voice warm. Magneto ignored the pang of guilt he felt at hearing his daughter speak and forced himself to focus on the reason he was making this call to his children in the first place.

"I have a confession to make to you." In his mind he could picture Pietro's thin lips pursing, the inquisitive look on Wanda's face; and he almost felt bad over what he was about to say next.

"I am not really your father."

Following his delivery, the stiff silence on the other end of the line suddenly seemed to become oppressive. He could tell that neither twin knew exactly what to do with this latest revelation, and Magneto had to restrain himself from fidgeting in his seat like an anxious schoolboy as he awaited the reactions that were sure to come next.

At last, the silence was finally broken- but not in the way magneto had expected. _Laughter_. Harsh, loud, utterly deranged laughter straight into the telephone that left Magneto nearly frightened as he listened to it. The laughter continued on and on, seeming to get further and further from the speaker. Then, in the background, magneto could vaguely make out the sound of "I'm Walkin' On Sunshine" playing over the cackling, and he shrunk back from the phone in bewilderment.

Meanwhile, Wanda's reaction was pure confusion. "Uhh- Father? You're- you're joking, right? Father? _Father_? You _are _just kidding. _Right_?"

Magneto didn't reply to his daughter, slamming the phone back down on the receiver. And then, immediately, he began to snicker.

April Fools, suckers.

One thing most people didn't know about the Master of Magnetism- he really, really enjoyed April Fools Day.

"Uhh... boss?" Pyro's voice was tentative- very out of character for the usually loud fire manipulator- as he stuck his head in the doorway. In his experience, a laughing Magneto never meant anything good. "You alright in here?"

Magneto was actually grinning; it was a truly terrifying sight. "I love April Fools," he exclaimed, leaning far back in his chair.

Pyro's blue eyes widened slightly, and they immediately darted back to the calendar at the far end of the Acolytes' base- the one that no one had bothered to change in months. it was currently fixed, just as it had been for almost as long as Pyro had been here, on the month of April. "Umm, Maggie," he ventured, fiddling absently with one of his lighters just to keep his hands busy. "Hate to break it to you, mate, but that thing hasn't been touched in ages. It's December."

Magneto immediately sat forward, his feet hitting the ground with a thump. "_What_?"

"That migh' be Gambit's fault," commented Remy, sliding past the doorway behind Pyro- _where had he even come from_? "I was s'pposed to change the calender- never bothered."

"You?" Pyro blinked in surprise. "I thought it was supposed to be Sabretooth's job."

"If it was, he wouldn'ta done it. Colossus is da only one that does any work round here, anyways."

The ginger teen shrugged his shoulders. "True. Very true." No good layabout. When Pyro was doing more work than you, there was a problem there.

Magneto, on the other hand, was slumped at his desk, his helmeted head cradled in his hands. "My children," he moaned into his fingers, his shoulders shaking slightly "_Nooooo_..." It was the most emotion that Pyro had ever seen the man display over his kids in, well... ever.

Gambit stared at his boss, obviously unsettled by the display before him. "Uhh... he okay?"

Pyro shook his head, having witnessed the entire thing and knowing exactly why his boss was reacting so violently. "Probably not. Just... don't ask," he muttered, slowly backing out of the office and shutting Magneto's door behind him, leaving the Master of Magnetism to his own despair.

**AN: So... needless to say I've been absurdly busy with school and theatre, which is why I haven't posted in, like, two weeks. Sorry guys, but I'm finally back, after a devastating hiatus- and this is my reaction to this recent AXIS reveal of Pietro and Wanda not really being Magneto's kids.**

**I mean... what? Seriously, what? Like, you can't do that. You can't just take fifty years of angst and character development and throw it all away, toss out the back stories and heritage of two very interesting Jewish-Roma superheroes... for what? A dumb film that's probably going to mangle everything anyway? Yeah, I'm mad. This is how that decision translates into my Evo-verse.**

**Also, one last thing, guys. I'm working on a project. This will be my first real, multi-chapter fanfic for Evo that actually follows a coherent plot. It's gonna be spooky, and while I'm still working on it I hope to debut it sometime in... January? I'll keep you updated, but it's going to heavily center around the dynamic of the Maximoff twins, as well and the family dynamic of the entire Brotherhood.**


	32. Frozen- AU? Crack

**AN: Dear god, what have I written... okay, I guess this is kind of my Christmas present to you guys? Blame my longing for snow, and my five year old sister forcing me to watch **_**Frozen **_**again for the **_**eighth **_**time this month... this is the crackiest thing I've written in, well, maybe ever, and that's even counting some of the stuff I wrote way back in sixth grade (and believe me, those things were **_**bad**_**). You can... probably skip this one. This is either an AU or it isn't... I was just having a conversation with my friend about what would happen if there was a musical and one person who had no idea what was going on, and so... this was born.**

**Warning- I own literally none of the lyrics in this story. They are all from Frozen. If you haven't seen Frozen- you should go watch it, because it's actually really good (when you see it the first five times), and also if you haven't you probably won't really understand this story. So, without further ado... I don't know what I've done here.**

"Heeey," trilled Tabitha, sidling up to Toad in the hallway and succeeding in causing the younger mutant to nearly jump out of his skin. To be fair to Toad, she had just appeared out of virtually nowhere (who did she think she was, Blue Boy?) while he was innocently heading down to the kitchen to check the trash cans for a buggy snack. You could barely blame him for being just a little bit alarmed- and his girly shriek didn't emasculate him at all.

Toad turned a bewildered eye on the blonde totally clueless as to what she could want from him. Tabitha's face broke into a wide grin. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure?" He gave her a confused look, which quickly shifted into a wary one. "Uh-uh, wait- is this gonna get me in trouble? Cause I didn't do nothin', and I don't want anyone thinkin' that it was me who set their bed on fire or something- with them in it- _again_. What'd you do?"

"I didn't do anything," she snorted, sounding slightly offended. Toad was unfazed. "I just wanted to ask you..."

Despite the irritation and wariness more than evident of Toad's face, the blonde mutant girl slowly broke into a wide grin that made Toad's stomach sink. "Do you wanna build a snowman?" she finally asked brightly, with all the enthusiasm of a small child.

_He should have known._

"No!" Toad snapped before she could get another words out, turning on his heel and beginning to hop away. Tabitha's hasty footsteps trailed behind him, and even without looking back he could hear the pout in her voice.

"Come on, let's go and play! I never see you any more, come out the door-"

"I ain't behind no doors!" he snapped, despite the fact that up until that moment he'd been half-contemplating barricading himself in his bedroom to escape her. "What's wrong with your head?"

"It's like you've gone away!"

"Urghh- I'm tryin'!" But at this point, trying was all but futile- Tabby had managed to wrap her arms around his shoulders, pulling him into her chest- more like squashing him- and despite his squirming she was now singing into his hair.

"We used to be best buddies-"

"I don't like you!"

"-and now we're not."

"You don't say."

"I wish you would tell me _why_!"

On this note, however, Tabby made a fatal mistake- she spread her arms wide, allowing the younger boy to easily wriggle away and spring out of her grasp. "I'll tell you why! _You- can't- sing_! It ain't even winter yet; and I hate _Frozen_, yo!"

Tabitha finally stopped, looking as if he'd personally insulted her lifeblood. "How can you hate _Frozen_?"

"I hate the cold, and I hate singin'. Sue me."

Living with Tabby for six months had given Toad a good insight into how rapidly her moods could change; and living with both her and Pietro had made him especially immune to the variety of manipulative puppy-faces they both liked to utilize when they wanted to get their way. So when Tabby stuck her lower lip out and pouted, he wasn't moved in the slightest.

What did generate a reaction were her next, coercingly-spoken words: "Do you wanna build a snowman?"

"_**NO**_!"

"It doesn't have to be a snowman..."

"That's it," Toad sighed, finally deciding to give up. "I'm outta here, yo! I ain't gettin' sucked into your crazy!" Leaping into the air, he bounced his back legs off the wall and somersaulted down the stairs, propelling himself away from Boom-Boom's musical madness.

Tabby watched him go with a regretful look on her face. She sighed. "Okay, bye..."

Meanwhile, in the downstairs hallways, Toad found himself victorious. "Aww yeah," he muttered to himself, striding into the kitchen with a slight skip in his step. "Point one for the toad! Not getting involved in that, no way, no- uhh, Freddy? Whatcha doin' there, buddy?"

He was so stunned that he'd been completely drawn to a stop; standing in the middle of the kitchen he found Fred, wearing, for some unholy reason, a straw hat and wielding a wooden cane, with a large grin on his face. Toad felt his stomach sink. "Please not you too..."

"Hey Toad," greeted Fred brightly. "I just heard you say you don't like the cold."

"Freddy man, I don't like where this is goin'..."

Fred, however, was blatantly ignoring him; and all of a sudden, seemingly from out of nowhere, strumming music seemed to emanate throughout the room. Fred sighed; Toad felt himself shrinking back against the wall, praying that what he knew was about to happen was not actually about to happen.

He was wrong.

"Bees'll buzz, kids'll blow dandelion fuzz, and I'll be doing whatever Blobs do in summer..."

"Freddy, _why_."

"A drink in my hand, my skin up against the burning sand, probably getting gorgeously tanned in summer!"

"And you altered it, too..." Toad pressed a hand to his face, moaning. "Why?"

And it was then that Fred actually, literally began to do the one thing Toad never needed to see in his entire life- he began to dance, using the cane and the hat as props. As he spun, he vaguely sung along: "Dah dah, da doo, uh bah bah bah bah bah boo..."

Toad wanted to cry.

"The big and the hot are both so intense, put 'em together, it just makes-"

"That doesn't make sense," interjected Toad, and Fred too seemed to realize that his own altered lyrics were a bit too strange, for he trailed off uncertainly for a few seconds. Toad saw a glimmer of hope; was it all over? But of course not, for Fred immediately picked up singing again. And dancing.

"Rrr Raht da daht dah dah dah dah dah dah dah dah doo..." He just looked so infuriatingly happy with his musical number; it made Toad want to scream. "Winter's a good time to stay in and cuddle, but put me in summer and I'll be-"

"Standin' in a puddle?" suggested Toad, raising an eyebrow. Fred shot him what might have been, from anyone else to anyone else, a death glare.

"A happy mutant!" He finished with a wide grin, and it was then that Toad finally decided that he'd had enough. Shaking his head, he waved for Fred to continue his song- which he seemed to be doing, whether he had an audience or not- and strode out of the room. That was enough singing for one day- more than enough. Right now, he just wanted to watch some good old TV, and forget that anything he had just seen in the kitchen ever occurred-

"No, no, Wanda, you're spinning the wrong way!"

"I'm not spinning the wrong way, your big feet are getting in the way!"

Ohh no.

Toad froze in the doorway, already knowing what he was going to see before he even forced himself to open his eyes. There were Wanda and Pietro- in _full costume_- twirling around as they practiced a dance; none other than one from Frozen.

"What are you guys doing?" Toad exclaimed, blanching in utter horror. Now even his snookums was getting in on this too?!

The heads of both the twins shot up, their eyes widening when they caught sight of Toad standing there. Wanda, at least, had the decency to look somewhat ashamed; however, Pietro saw an opportunity.

"An audience!" he exclaimed, flashing his sister a dazzling- and somewhat sinister- smile. "Let's perform."

An uncertain look crossed Wanda's face. "I'd rather not..."

"Please don't..."

But Pietro wasn't listening. Instead, he was... to Toad's horror, Pietro seemed to be getting into position for the beginning of the song. Briefly, Toad wondered if he could just run out of the room before he had to see anything weird, but that thought quickly flew out of his head the moment he heard Wanda start to sing- and, to his astonishment, she actually had a really nice voice. It was thick, soft, and very pretty- the perfect voice to sing lullabies, he thought briefly.

"All my life has been a series of doors in my face, and then suddenly I bumped into you..."

Pietro grinned at his sister. "I was thinking the same thing! Cause like, I've been searching my whole life to find my own place. And maybe it's the party talking, or the chocolate fondue-"

"But with you-"

"But with you-"

"I found my place!"

"I see your face!"

"And it's nothing like I've ever known before..."

Toad wrinkled his nose. Obviously the twins hadn't even gone to the trouble of changing the song to suit them- and they were aware that they were _siblings_, right? No matter how many times they tried to murder each other, they were still siblings. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a pouting voice wondered why Wanda couldn't be singing this to him- but Toad quickly squashed it. He did not need his brain to be going in that direction right now, especially not when before him the twins were... once again, dancing.

"Love is an open door!" They sang in time with the music- once more, _where the heck was the music coming from?!_- as they spun each other around the room. Toad took a not very small step back, out of the living room entirely; and it was only when the dancing twins were obscured from his sight did he find the strength to break into a full on sprint up the stairs as fast as his little Toad legs could carry him.

To his relief, Tabby wasn't still hanging around in the hallway. Toad broke into a dead run for the one person he knew most definitely wouldn't be affected by this bizarre musical phenomenon. However, he ended up not being able to slow down in time; and full on busted the door to Lance's room wide open when he rolled in to it. Wow, he would be paying for that later. But right now, his mind was focused on one thing and one thing only; preserving what was left of his own sanity.

"Lance! Lance! They've gone nuts man, they're all out there singin' and dancing' and I ain't never seen anything like it! I swear, yo, for the first time in forever-" He cut himself off, mouth agape. "Aww no, now _I'm _doin it!" For the first time, he turned his eyes towards Lance, his face desperate. "Ya gotta help me, man! I don't wanna sing, I don't, please- ohhhhh no." He cut himself off, his face turning a sickly shade of grey. "L-Lance?"

Lance gave him a thin smile from where he was sitting cross-legged on his bed before strumming his guitar. "Reindeers are better than people! Kitty, don't you think I'm right?"

Lance then turned to the pillow sitting on his left- the pillow that he had somehow obtained a brown wig for, and had drawn on a grinning Sharpie face with long eyelashes. He shifted his voice to make it squeakier, and Toad felt his mouth drop open in shock. "Yes, people will, like, beat you, and curse you, and call you a mutant which is, like, totally gross! Every one of them's totally bad- except you!"

"Lance..." Toad moaned, quickly backing out of the room. He didn't need to see any more of this; he _so _didn't _want _to. "Why, man... look at yourself."

It was then, in his moment of sheer horror, that adequate distraction was provided for Tabitha to come up behind Toad and grab him, picking him up and clutching him in her arms like a baby. Toad immediately began straining and fighting, screaming bloody murder all the way as she, followed by Lance and "Kitty", marched down the stairs to join the rest of the assembled Brotherhood in the foyer. To Toad's horror, they were singing... they were _all _singing.

"Let it go! Let it go! Can't hold it back anymore! Let it go! Let it go! Turn away and slam the door! I don't care what they're going to say! Let the storm rage on..." The entire company trailed off, and slowly, Toad realized that every single eye was on him. For a moment he hesitated; and then-

"The cold never bothered me anyway!"

Crazy. That's what they all were, crazy. But after all, Toad mused- if you can't beat 'em, you were better off joining them.


	33. Poker

"We should play strip poker tonight!"

From where he was sprawled out on the couch, Lance's head dropped back and he rolled his eyes. "For the eighth time, no one else in this house is going to play strip poker with you."

Tabby sat up straighter. "_Well_-"

"For the _eighth _time," Lance repeated, sounding tired and more than a little irritated, "_no one else_-"

"Okay, okay, we get it. Geez." Scowling but fortunately seeming to give up on his idea- for now- Pietro sped around to perch on the back of Fred's armchair. "It's not like I see you coming up with any bright ideas here, Lance."

"Yeah," added Toad from where he was sitting on top of the television. Why he was up there, no one had any idea, and frankly no one cared enough to ask. "I ain't sittin' around here all night on a Friday. The night life is out, I should be too."

"What night life do you have, Toad?"

"More than you," shot back Toad defensively, crossing his arms- and nearly falling from the top of the television in the process. Pietro let out a snort.

"I'm bored!' he announced, lounging dramatically on the back of the chair and throwing his arm to the side, allowing it to flop onto Fred's head. The bigger boy rolled his eyes but obligingly help otherwise still as Lance shot Pietro a hard glare.

"Well, if _you two_-" He cast a glance at Tabby as well, who didn't look regretful in the slightest- "hadn't managed to get us kicked out of the mall again, then we would be having this problem!"

Pietro rose in indignation. "It wasn't our fault!"

"You destroyed a _Sears_."

"Not completely."

"The entire store."

"We were just trying to redecorate! The layout in there was horrible."

"You impersonated store employees and pretended to cry whenever anyone tried to talk to you."

"We were working on our improv skills.

"You made the mannequins do... X-rated things."

"They looked suggestive already!"

"You started a small fire."

"_That _was that weird Aussie kid's fault! He was the one with the lighter!"

Lance pressed his hands to his face, groaning slightly. "Do I look like I care whose fault the fire was?" Actually, he didn't. He looked for all the world like nothing would make him happier than to spontaneously burst into flames right where he was sitting, just to be done with his two ridiculous housemates forever. Unfortunately- seeing as Lance was, in fact, neither Sunspot nor the weird Aussie kid Tabby and Pietro had met at the store, this was not really an option for him at the moment. "It wouldn't even be such a big deal if this weren't the fourth time this month! And it's always the same store, too- what, do you two just have something against _Sears_?"

"Yeah," replied Tabby, shrugging, "but that's besides the point. Why can't we do something tonight?"

Lance raised his eyebrows pointedly. "What do you suggest we do?"

For a moment, there was silence throughout the room as all five members of the Brotherhood ran ideas through their heads, futilely searching for ways to occupy their time. Finally, it was Toad who spoke up: "We could try mini-golf!"

"No," Pietro shot down quickly, in no way having forgotten the fallout from the last time the Brotherhood had attempted to play mini-golf. In short; there were things smashed, golf balls where golf balls should never be. and Pietro had almost wound up dead. "Not again. Never again."

"We could take out the puppets-" began Fred hopefully. Lance pressed a hand to his face again.

"God, why?"

"We could go annoy Kelly?" suggested Tabby with a shrug, but Toad negated this idea with a shake of his head and a sigh.

"No good. He still hasn't found the python yet."

A long silence followed, with each teen stewing in their own boredom. After a long moment, the lull was shattered once more by the optimistic sound of Pietro's voice as he spoke up again: "So, who's ready for strip poker?"

**AN: After that last utter crack story, this one is a lot calmer- basically, this is what's considered a "quiet" night at the Brotherhood house. No points for guessing who the Aussie firebug was.**

**As an aside- Fred's "puppets" comment was a direct reference to the X-Rated puppet shows from the many wonderful fics of Red Witch. My interpretation of the Brotherhood is heavily based off of her Evo stories, and she really has a great understanding of the craziness of the Brotherhood. It's a shame that she doesn't seem to write for the fandom that much anymore; then again, it isn't really surprising. I suppose the Evo fandom really is dying off.**

**Anyway, guys- Happy Holidays to everyone!**


	34. Shake

Kitty liked to think that she was a pretty good dancer. It wasn't that she loved to dance; she did have a good deal of natural rhythm and talent, only honed and improved by a childhood of dance lessons. She was better than most people she knew, at any rate- especially Rogue and Scott, whose moves were truly pitiful and never failed to make her crack up.

But as fun as dancing well was, even Kitty would admit that sometimes even better that that was just totally letting go. Dancing your head off with no heed to how coordinated you looked or whether anyone saw you or not had to be one of the most liberating things in the entire world.

... though maybe she should have paid more attention to whether or not anyone could see her. Especially while hanging around the Brotherhood house, waiting for Lance to show up.

"I'm a Barbie Girl! In a Barbie world!" she sang along, jumping to the electronic rhythm of the song blasting from the iPod speakers. "Life in plastic! It's fantastic! You can brush my hair, and dress me everywhere! Imagination, life is your creation!"

"Come on Barbie, let's go party," intoned a deep voice from the doorway behind her, and Kitty let out an alarmed shriek as she spun around- to face her very amused boyfriend.

"Lance!" she exclaimed, whacking him on the arm and trying to ignore the way her face had to be turning a sick shade of red. Lance chuckled, entering his room and shutting the door behind him. "Shut up," Kitty murmured, scampering to silence the song. "As if you don't totally rock out to your crazy metal songs. I've seen you."

Lance's face broke into a wide grin as he grabbed Kitty by the waist and pulled her closer to him. "I'm not laughing at you," he protested. "I just think it's cute."

She pouted. "My crazy dancing is not _cute_."

"No," he conceded, nodding his head. "You crazy dancing is just crazy."

Suddenly Kitty smirked, easily phasing through Lance's arms and darting over to her iPod again. "But," she giggled, her blue eyes sparkling in a way that made Lance's stomach do a flip, "I know what _would _be cute."

Suddenly, one of Lance's of favorites- one Kitty had caught him shimmying around to just last weekend- started blaring from the device, and Lance let out a surprised laugh as Kitty immediately began to dance her way over to him. "I like the way you think," he muttered, taking her by the hand and spinning her to the pounding beat.

_"Now, if she moves like this, will you move it like that? Come on! Shake, shake, shake, shake, shake it!"_

**AN: Call me crazy, but sometimes I think I give Lance too much game in my Lancitty stories. I mean, this is the guy who wanted to keep her girlfriend safe (from his best friend's lunatic sister) so he yelled at her to make her go away. I mean, seriously, Lance, you're sort of an idiot. I don't know how Kitty puts up with you.**

**Yeah, this is another Lancitty one. In case you're wondering, the sound they were dancing to is "**_**Shake It**_**" by Metro Station, which is totally a Lancitty song and which I totally don't own. If you don't like the Lancitty, chill- next up is a shot between Lance and Pietro, so all you Lietro fans should be sated then.**

**Also, Moonheart13, something you said in one of your reviews inspired me. So after the next shot, I have something coming up involving Tabby that you inspired me for...**


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